Maybe This Time
by Emilee21598
Summary: Harry met Maddy; they fell in love. The twist? Maddy is Voldemort's daughter, and when Harry discovers this, he leaves. They meet two years later at Hogwarts, and Voldemort returns with one Horcrux, it's up to Maddy and Harry to finish it. Summary inside.
1. Absolutely

**Rest of Summary: Maddy and Harry are thrown together as they battle her father to the death. When Maddy's moment of truth arrives, she will prove once and for all where her heart truly lies...**

I smoothed my short, pleated gray skirt and sat in the chair across from Hermione Granger's, and folded my hands together, tapping my foot impatiently on the floor.

I stood up, and began to wander aimlessly along the room, when I spotted a dowdy-looking hat. I stepped closer to it, cocking my head to the side for a better view.

"New at Hogwarts, aye?"

I jumped and spun around. "Who said that?" I called, my voice echoing. "Hello?"

"I did," the same voice responded. I turned back around and glared up at the hat, drawing my wand warily. I pointed it up at him, in between his eyes.

"Hey, hey! Take it easy," the hat shouted, scooting back on its shelf. "I'm just the Sorting Hat. Relax."

I stuffed my wand back into my pocket, glaring at it. "I wasn't going to hex you or something," I snapped at it, turning my back on it and slipping back into my seat, flushing.

Just then, the door opened, and in strode Hermione Granger herself, in simple black robes, her hair twisted into a bun. "Hello, Miss—" she glanced down to check her clipboard— "Johnson. How nice to meet you," she continued, with a smile, looking very professional.

I stood up, smoothing my skirt—nervous habit—and shook her hand firmly. "Nice to meet you, too," I replied politely. I released her hand and twisted my own together. "How are you today?"

"I'm fine. And you?"

"I'm doing well, thank you."

Pleasantries out of the way—thank God, I'd never been a small talker—she leaned forward over the desk. "Well, I was very impressed by your résumé," she informed me.

"Thank you."

"So. Why do you want to teach at Hogwarts?" she asked, folding her hands together and placing the on top of her mahogany desk.

I breathed a sigh. I'd prepared for this. I could do this. "That's easy. I have a special connection to this place. Although I never went to school here, it _is_ world-renowned school, and I think that..." I was babbling. It was another one of my nervous habits, and it was particularly annoying. I slowed my words, took a deep breath, and decided to stop beating around the bush. Leaning forward to look her in the eye, I added, "There's something that you should know about my past."

She cocked her head to the side, curious. "Yes? And that is?"

I braced myself for her reaction—and for how I would react to telling this story. I never _had_ told anyone before. I had never felt the need to explain myself to anyone. But if she was to be my employer, I felt she, at least, had a right to know.

"My surname used to be Riddle," I told her nervously. "As in… Tom Riddle. Voldemort? I'm… his daughter. Biologically, anyway."

Her mouth dropped open—a natural reaction. But then she shut it, and, looking shaken but business-like, she leaned forward on her desk. "Voldemort… had a daughter?" she breathed, as the portraits on the walls began murmuring amongst themselves, dicussign this new tidbit of information. The volume increased gradually, until Hermione held up and hand, and they all fell silent at once.

I nodded. "Not many people know this. Actually, only about five _living_ people know." I grimaced at her. "I don't consider him to be my real father—he was never much of one anyway. I just thought you should know. In case it was a… deal-breaker? I know many people are uncomfortable with it—understandably, of course. I don't exactly relish in it either."

She sat up straight. "Do you have any connection to him at all?"

"No, not other than biologically," I replied, my throat going very dry. I knew all about Hermione. She was a good judge of character, so I had heard. She was extremely intelligent, and reasonable, practical, and usually kind. However, I also knew that she had been through a lot on my father's account, like many other people.

She stood up, looking more than slightly shaken, and obvisouly ready to end the interview. "Very well. I'll speak with you soon, Miss Riddle." She held out her hand for a final shake, and I felt dread swell up inside of me. I hoped to God she wouldn't consult with any other teachers.

Biting my lip nervously, I stood up, grasped her hand firmly, and walked with her to the door.

_Way to fuck it all upbefore it even begins, Maddy,_ I scolded myself. _Way. To fucking. Go._

**. . .**

As I walked down the hall, my black stiletto heels clicked on the stone floor, I wrapped my black sweater around me, shivering into it.

"… us tickets for the World Cup, mate," someone was saying, a man's voice. Their footteps were approaching me quickly from behind. If I didn't move quickly, they would spot me. "Six tickets. One for Hermione, one for me, one for Ginny, and one for Dean. One for you, too, of course, mate. You could bring someone, if you want."

"No," the man's companion replied after a moment.

I let out a gasp, and my hand traveled involuntarily to the silver locket that always hung around my neck. I knew that voice. There was nothing I wouldn't have done, just to hear that voice speak to me one more time. Whether it was screaming or whispering, it didn't matter. I would have sacrificed my life—or even someone else's—to hear him utter one goddamn word to me.

"Remember what happened the last time we went to the World Cup? The last time England hosted it?" he was continuing, unaware of my presence, as they approached. I let myself bask in the sound of his voice, drinking it in like an alcoholic having his last beer before rehab.

Only when they were just around the corner did I realize that he couldn't find me. Couldn't know I was here. Couldn't even know I was alive.

I spun around. _I need a place to hide, where I can still listen to their conversation._ And before the thought was even fully formed, a large door with a brass handle appeared. out of nowhere. Without giving it a thought, I grabbed the door, yanked it open, and dashed inside, just as they rounded the corner. It was like a cell, made out of cold, gray stone with nothing inside of it. Well, except for me. I pressed my ear against the door and listened intently.

"England's hosting the World Cup, for the first time in—"

"Five years. Yeah. I know, Ron, I remember."

Ron. That must have been Ronald Weasley, his best friend. As I processed this, aching to hear more, the footsteps halted right otuside of the door.

"Someone's here," he breathed, barely audible.

"Who?" Ron asked, just as quiet.

My heart sank. Game over. He was going to see me. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. After two whole years…

_Don't let him find me. Please. He cannot find me. _But he was going to. I knew it. _What would his reaction be?_ I wondered. Would he shout? Laugh, cry, grin? It was impossible to tell. he had been so unprediactable, even when we first met. I knew him inside out, like the back of my hand. But now... after two years... I had no clue as to how he would react, what he would do, how he would feel... it was amazing, how time could change something.

"The Room of Requirement," he murmured, and I felt his hand against the wall, pounding on it as if trying to break in. "I need to find whoever is in there. I need to find whoever is in there."

"Nothing," Ron announced. I cowered against the wall of the tiny, empty room.

"Okay, okay… I need to find whoever is _hiding_ in here."

I kept waiting for the door to open. For him to barge in and shout at me and tell me to get out of his home, his school, the place where he lived and taught and ate and drank and slept.

But nothing happened.

"Nothing! Goddammit!" His temper started to kick in. "Who the hell—?" He cut himself off, and one second later, whispered, "No." Half a second later, "_No. _It—it can't be."

"Harry? What is it?" I heard Ron draw his wand from under his robes. "What's going on?"

"N—nothing. Just… I just—nothing." There was dead silence out in the hallway. You could have heard a pin drop. I was sure my thudding heart would give me away.

"Harry? We've got classes to teach," Ron reminded him quietly, clapping him on the shoulder. "C'mon, mate. We're going to be late."

"Uh... you go ahead," he told Ron. "I'll be right there. Tell my class I'll be a bit late, okay?"

Ron agreed with a, "Sure, mate," and departed. Harry waited until his footsteps stopped echoing up and down the hallway before, until he was sure that he, Ron, was gone, before leaning into the wall, taking a breath, and whispering, "Madeleine?

My breath caught in my throat. My name. He'd actually, actually said my _name._ How I'd longed to hear hm say that again. When he said my name, as opposed to when my father did, it sounded like the most beautiful word in the world. It gave me shivers. Except he had never called me Madeleine before. It had always been Maddy, Mads, Mad… never Madeleine.

And then, as if I had willed it to happen, he whispered, "Maddy? Are you there?"

Yes. _Yes._ Yes, I'm here! Come and find me. Come into the room. Please.

I remained frozen on the cold, hard, stone floor, unable to move, unable to breathe, trying to communicate via thoughts with him.

But after a good five minutes of mentally screaming at him to open the fucking door and come in and find me, I heard him murmur, "You're hallucinating now. Move the fuck on, Harry Potter." I heard him stand up and begin walking away. Only a couple feet away, I heard him stop and murmur,

"Goodbye, Maddy."

I sat on the floor about ten more minutes before finally standing, getting out of the tiny room, and sinking down to the floor

"Goodbye, Harry."

**. . .**

In Miss Granger's office again, I glanced at the Sorting Hat. Memories flowed through me. Suddenly, I was six years old again, in my tower with Bella, in my first grown-up dress, smiling into the mirror.

"_Bella."_

"_Yes, Princess?"_

"_Tell me about the Sorting Hat again." I turned to her, smiling my innocent child's smile up at her beautiful face. "I want to know. What's it like?"_

_She laughed at my eagerness. Having never been to school, I had sort of an obsession with Hogwarts. "Sweetheart, Hogwarts is overrated. You have a better education here than you would there", she would tell me, as she always did._

"_I don't care," I replied determinedly. "Tell me about the Sorting Hat!"_

"_Okay, okay." She hoisted me up onto her knee, as she had millions of times before. "When you're a first year, you're excited and nervous, all at the same time. You can't wait for your first year at Hogwarts, and for all the years after that. They call names in alpabetical order, by last name."_

"_I would be almost last!" I chirped, bouncing on her lap._

"_Yes, you would, silly," she laughed, pinching my cheeks. "There's a raggedy old Hat that will sing you a marvelous song about your years at hogwarts, and all the different Houses that there are. It desn't look very signifigant, but it is. Finally, when he's done, they put the hat on your head, and sit you down on a stool. The hat speaks to you. After careful consideration—"_

"_It puts you in a House!"_

"_Right. I was in Slytherin. So was your father."_

"_And my mommy?" I questioned, always eager to know more about her. From since I could talk I'd wanted to know about her—her favorite color, her favorite food, how she and my dad met…. Everything._

_Bella paused. She didn't like the topic of my mother. Even then, I was very perceptive. I could tell she avoided the subject as often as possible. _"_Well… your mom and dad… they didn't meet at Hogwarts."_

"_But surely he knew her House!" At that age, how was I supposed to figure out that I had been the by product of a one night stand?_

_Bella paused, not saying anything, just watching my all too eager eyes. At the time, I hadn't known how she had despised my mother. How she had waited, breathlessly, for the moment I would be born and my mother would be gone, disposed of, useless, worth nothing more than a stupid, dirty Muggle to my father._

"_Bella? What's wrong?"_

_She shook her head, as if to clear it. "Gryffindor, I think, Princess. She was a Gryffindor, sweetheart." Of course, she personally had known everything about my mother since they were children._

"_What would I be, Bella?"_

_She hugged me, took me off her knee, and set me down on the floor with a smile. "Oh, sweetheart, only the Hat can decide."_

_Frowning, I crossed my arms across my chest, harrumphed at her, and turned my back. "Then make me a Sorting Hat!" I cried excitedly. "Come on! Please? Please? Pleeease? It'll be fun, Bella! I promise! Pretty please, Bella?"_

_She sighed and laughed, pinching my left cheek gently. "Okay."_

_A few days later, she came up to my room with a worn brown witch's hat. She had me sit on a tall stool—never mind that I was only six—and placed the hat on my head. I was positively wriggling with excitement, barely able to stay on the stool. After a moment, Bella cried, "Slytherin!" loudly._

_I was officially a Slytherin. Just like my daddy. I couldn't have been more thrilled._

Snorting a bitter laugh, I turned away from that stupid old Hat I had been oh-so-obsessed with as a child.

I sat down in the chair designated for me, and after only a few moments, Hermione Granger entered. She smiled stiffly at me, as if her opinion of me had changed considerably since I had confessed my family tree to her.

"So," she began, sitting down at her desk. "I was wondering about your mother?"

"Right. Yes. My mother." I paused. This had always been a bit of a sensitive spot with me. "Well. Um. I… never met her. She… she was murdered by Voldemort, the day that I was born. He didn't need her anymore," I stated bitterly. "Never mind that I might have."

She looked sympathetic but continued on. "Tea? Coffee? Pumpkin juice?" she offered. "Any type of drink at all?"

I let out a laugh. "You could have just asked me to take some Veritasiam, Miss Granger, I wouldn't have objected."

Having been caught, Hermione blushed a bright, flaming red. She looked down at the small vial in her fist, and then at the tray of refreshments in front of her with an abashed gaze. "I apologize, but you do understand—"

"I understand," I cut in, my respect for her dwindling slightly. I held out my hand impatiently for the vial of the most powerful truth potion in the world. "I'll take it. I have no issue with that. I have nothing to hide." I met her eyes defiantly, and hesitantly she handed the vial to me. Without so much as a breath, I uncorked the bottle and chugged it. "Ask me anything."

She folded her hands together, swallowing nervously. "Are you working with Lord Voldemort?"

I wanted to be angry that she was even suggesting that. I opened my mouth to retort, but all the came out was, "No." And then I felt my face from the inside out—it was slack. My eyes seemed glassy. I tried to keep my mouth shut when she asked,

"Why are you teaching here?"

"I've always wanted to be a teacher," I responded, and the words were coming out without my permission. I didn't want her to know this. This was _private._ "I never got to go to school. As a child, I had sort of an obsession with Hogwarts. I always wanted to be a student. Since I didn't get that opppurtinity, I decided that I would teach."

She was nodded, taking in everything, jotting in down on a notebook. It infuriated me. I just wanted the fucking job. I didn't want—didn't need—Hermione Granger knowing about my past, my childhood. _It's none of your fucking business! _I tried to shout at her. Nothing came out.

She nodded before continuing, "And why didn't you go to school here?"

"I grew up at the Malfoy Manor. With Bella, Draco, Cissy, and Lucius. My father, too, when he came back from wherever the hell he was as I was growing up. I lived in my very own tower. I had a maid—Sarah—who is my best friend now. She was there for me. All the time."

_Stop talking! _I screamed at myself. _Now. Right. Now. _I didn't. The words kept coming.

"I was never allowed outside—no exceptions. Not even for school."

"That seems harsh," she noted.

That wasn't a question. _I didn't have to respond to that, _I reminded myself. Relieved, I sat back in my chair and didn't say a word. Frustrated, Hermione narrowed her eyes at me.

"How did you feel about that?" Hermione asked, like some sort of fucking therapist.

_Screw you._ "That's _personal_," I blurted out, and her eyes widened before the potion forced me to answer. The words seemed to push against my lips, and I couldn't hold them in. "I resented it. I couldn't stand it. I loved him—or I thought I did. He was, after all, the only family I had left. I hated it. And it made me hate him."

"You wouldn't have hated him otherwise?" she pressed.

"I don't know, okay?" I snapped. "I don't know. I began to get angry with him—fight with him, fight back against all his fucked-up, unfair rules. That didn't end well. It was no use if I got angry. I wasn't any different than one of his Death Eaters to him."

"Didn't end well? What does that mean?" she asked, her tone going dark. She already knew the answer. That, I as sure of. She was wanted to hear me say it. The little bitch.

_Don't tell her. _Don't _tell her, _I begged myself. _She doesn't need to know. It's none of her fucking business, Maddy._

But the words burst unwillingly out of my mouth. "He tortured me. The Cruciatous Curse. The 'Dark Princess' was supposed to be seen and not heard," I said, bitterness seeping into my voice.

"Dark Princess?"

"What they called me," I informed her.

_The Veritasiam was starting wear off,_ I noted with relief. _Thank God. _I felt my face lose its slackness, the color in my eyes start to return. Hermione, however, had noticed too. Hurriedly, she blurted out, "What is your relationship to Harry Potter, Madeleine?"

I was shocked beyond words. It was almost impossible to not slap her perfect, pretty face. "What?" I breathed.

"To your father, Harry was his archenemy. He tried, again and again, to kill him." Her face darkened.

Harry. _Harry._ My Harry. As if I would try to kill him. As if I considered him my _enemy_. Is that what she was suggesting? I could hardly tell. My mind was spinning, my heart was pounding. I couldn't hear her words. I couldn't see her. I rolled my hands into fists. Although the Veritasiam only gave a certain amount of time, Hermione had a good two minutes left to get me to crack and answer her intrusive questions. I didn't care. I wouldn't sit here adn be treated like a criminal for something I had no goddamn control over.

Reaching for my bag, blind with anger, I snatched it from the floor under my chair, lurched up out of my seat, and asked the question that was sure to lose me my dream job forever.

"Why the _fuck _don't you ask Harry himself?"

And with that, I wrenched open her office door and stormed out of the building.

Furious, wounded, seething, I marched down the hallway and out fo the gate. The second I was out of the door, I broke into a sprint, the wind biting at my face, stinging it, tears pricking at my eyes. Screw it. Screw Hogwarts, screw the job, screw Hermione goddamn Granger, screw my father. Screw life in general. Screw Bella and her stories about how wonderful Hogwarts had been. Screw Vertasiam and whoever fucking invented it. Screw dreaming and loving and laughing and everything that was good in the world, I fumed.

_"Fuck you!"_ I bawled at the castle, wheeling around to face it. I turned and spun on my heel, sucking in my breath as I Disapparated. I threw myself down on the cliffs that overlooked the ocean, crashing against the rock, wearing it down, tearing it apart.

I was tired. I was tired of trying to fix everything, of trying to make amends for my father, for something that wasn't my fault. I was tired of not getting what I wanted, what I deserved, because of him. I was angry that I hadn't been able to go to school when I was a teenager because of Lord Voldemort, my so-called dad. I was furious that, now, when he was dead, he was still screwing up my life. I couldn't have the job I wanted, the job I had dreamed of since I was sixteen.

And I was desperately, impossibly heartbroken that the one thing I would have given anything for, the one thing I wanted more than anything, I couldn't have. All because of him.

**. . .**

**HPOV**

I watched as a figure with blonde hair raced outside of the boundaries of Hogwarts, let out a strangled cry of, "Fuck you," and Disapparated. I stared after her for at least an hour, willing her to be someone I used to know, a long, long time ago.

_Two years,_ I reminded myself. _Two years isn't such a long time._

But at this point, it felt like a lifetime.

Lying back on the thick, green grass, I flicked my wand lazily and grabbed the bottle of Firewhisky I'd Summoned. I stared up at the sky, littered with brightly shining stars. As I watched, one especially bright star flashed across the sky, and I had the strangest urge to reach up and snatch it out of the sky, away from where it belonged.

"A shooting star," I murmured to myself as it fell across the sky, and disappeared from veiw.

_"Look!" she cried, her long blonde tresses cascading past her shoulders, down her back, nearly touching the ground as she leaned back and craned her neck to see the night sky. "A shooting star. I've never seen one before." She watched until she could no longer see it before laying down next to me and turning her blue-eyed gaze towards me. "You know, if you wish on a shooting star, it always comes true?"_

_I looked back at her beautiful face, and then up at the sky. "Is that so?"_

_She, too, gazed reverently up at the endless, black night. "What do you wish for?" she asked without braking her gaze._

_"Well, if I told you, if wouldn't come true, now would it?" I told her, elbowing her with a grin._

_She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest, and turned to face me once more, slapping my forearm playfully. "But that's what friends do, isn't it?" she said, her voice hused, as though she wasn't allowed to speak over a whisper when everything was this perfect. "Share secrets and dreams and wishes?"_

_I looked back at her. "Friends?" I asked her. "Is that what we are? Friends?"_

_Dropping her knees to the grass and sitting Indian style, Maddy looked away from me, up, as though if she looked hard enough, she could see into Heaven. Then she turned back to me, watching me with that blazing look of hers._

_Maddy saw me. Maddy knew me. She saw past everything that I hid behind... past The-Boy-Who-Lived, past The Chosen One, past the always courageous Harry Potter... and she saw Harry. She knew me for me._

_"Why don't you decide?" she replied softly. "Because I hardly know anymore."_

_"Maddy?" I murmured, leaning slightly towards her._

_"Yes?" she breathed, trembling slightly._

_I reached up and caressed her cheek softly; I leaned in and in half an instant, and our lips met. After a moment, a piece of Heaven, we pulled away. We lay back down as she melted into me, her head resting on my shoulder._

_After a while, Maddy whispered drowsily, "You know, you never did answer my question. What would you wish for, Harry?"_

Back in the present, I looked back up at the milky black sky, littered with stars, winking and smiling down on me. It looked as endless as my future had, so many years ago, as I lay there with Maddy. When I was with her, everything was a choice, a moment, a memory to be preserved forever. I could do anything, be anything. I could marry Maddy and forget about Lord Voldemort. I could have kids and live in a house. I could forget... forget about Ron, about Hermione, about Dumbledore. Forget about Hallows, and Horcruxes.

When I was with Maddy, I could do anything, be anything, as long as I had her by my side. My future was free and unencumbered.

But now... now I had an apartment, a job... a life I didn't want. Voldemort was gone, gone forever. My scar hadn't pained me in two years. He was finished... but in a way, so was I.

I had no dreams, no plans, no goals... no Maddy.

Her voice echoed in my head. _"What would you wish for, Harry?"_

"Just one thing, Maddy," I whispered up at the night above me, taking a sswig of Firewhisky as I did. "You. Only you."

**That was it. Hope you liked it! Reveiw please!**


	2. Nothing Left to Lose

**So this story is tied into music, a lot, and I was going to put up lyrics to go with each chapter. I did in Chapter One, Absolutely, but it didnt show up for some reason. The song was Absolutely (Story of a Girl) by Nine Days. Anyway, I don't own anything, but Maddy. And five reviews = next chapter, 'kay? Shouldn't be that hard, right? No reviews = no chapter. Enjoy!**

_And I found myself in bitter a fight_

_While I've held your hand through the darkest night_

_Don't know where you're coming from_

_But you're coming soon_

**Hermione POV**

I sat at my desk, tapping my French manicured nails on my mahogany desk. I still didn't know who I was going to hire for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for the First, Second, and Third years. Of course, I could just give Harry and Ron, but they were both better at teaching older students—they could give more advanced classes, less basics, which neither of them liked very much.

So I really did need to give the job to someone else, but who? Before I learned about Madeleine Riddle—Johnson, technically—past, I'd been positive that she deserved the job.

And the way she'd told me to ask Harry himself… it sounded like they knew each other… and so then Harry must have known that Voldemort had a daughter… but he couldn't have…

Harry would have told us. Would have told me and Ron. Of course he would have. We were best friends.

_But maybe… _I thought… _Maybe he told Ron but not you… maybe they were fuck buddies of something? But you always gave Harry relationship advice… Ron was always clueless with girls…_ I reminded myself.

Lurching up from the desk, I pulled the barrette from my hair and let it tumble down my shoulders. I pulled open the door and left my office, walking towards Ron's classroom.

I wanted to be subtle while asking him. I didn't want to give too much away in case he didn't know. And besides, I wouldn't want to alarm him. Ron would probably freak out at even the thought.

I arrived, standing in the doorway, and knocked quietly.

"Come in!" came his muffled cry.

Stepped in, confused, and saw him literally buried under O.W.L.s. I couldn't help but laugh. "Having fun, Ronald?"

He mock-glared at me before putting them back down and sitting at his desk. "Actually, I was planning on just failing all of them. You know, there are a few freaky genius kids like you in the fifth year."

I rolled my eyes and perched myself on the corner of his desk. "Nice to know," I told him sarcastically. He pulled one exam to him and began to grade, waiting for me to say whatever was on my mind. "Um... Ron?" I asked timidly.

He looked up. "Yeah?"

"Do you… do you ever think about Voldemort?" I asked with a glance towards the door.

He studied my face carefully, wondering where this was going. "Yeah. I think about him all the time." He grabbed his left hand, where he had traded his watch for the one Fred had worn since he turned seventeen.

I sighed. "No, Ron, I… didn't mean it like that," I said softly.

"Then think about him how?" he asked, returning to the O.W.L.

"Like… his life. I mean… what if he had… a girlfriend? A best friend? A… child?" I asked, whispering the last part, avoiding his gaze. He looked up at me in astonishment.

"His life?" Ron gaped at me. "A girlfriend? Like, he and Bellatrix Lestrange had an affair and then murdered their unwanted kid?" The sarcasm was clear in his voice.

I sighed. Ron could be so close-minded. Of course, I despised Voldemort and his Death Eaters as much as the next person—even more—but he had to stop looking at Voldemort as the cause for his brother's death, and think of him as a real person. "Ron. Come on; be serious."

"I am serious!" he cried. "Who else would sleep with Voldemort?"

"Someone who didn't know it was him," I replied slowly, thinking it through. "Someone who was manipulated into it."

Ron frowned. "Well, you can't exactly mistake him for someone else, Hermione, I mean, who else actually looks like that? Voldemort doesn't even look _human._"

I clenched my hands together in frustration. "Ron. Come on. _Voldemort _doesn't look human. _Tom Riddle_ was once a boy. A teenager. He didn't always look like that. He was quite handsome, so I hear, and if he introduced himself as someone else…"

"I guess even Voldemort had to get some," Ron joked, and I cracked a tired smile. "But really," he pressed, serious now, "do you really think Voldemort has a _kid?_ I mean, wouldn't he be out for revenge?"

"Or she," I reminded him. "But maybe, maybe not. I mean, honestly, you can't imagine Voldemort to be much of a father. Maybe they hated him."

Ron shrugged. "'Mione, I'd love to stay and theorize about some non-existent Voldemort-baby, but I'm buried under O.W.L.s, so, if you don't mind…" he trailed off and nodded to the door.

I slipped off his desk. "All right, all right, I can take a hint. Have fun grading tests!" I called on my way out.

Next, I stopped at Harry's room, but he wasn't in there. I checked his office, but he wasn't there either. After looking around the castle for a while, I started to get worried. I left the castle and scanned the area for him, until I saw a figure laying on the grass with a Firewhisky bottle next to him.

"Harry?" I called, and the figure didn't stir. I hurried over, and saw him laying in the grass, asleep. "Hey," I whispered, shaking him gently. "Wake up. It's me."

He simply rolled onto his side.

"_Aguamenti!"_

He woke with a start, as the water came into contact with his face.. "What the—Hermione?"

"Sorry. I didn't know where you were… and I started to get worried…"

"I'm fine. I just fell asleep out here."

I eyed the two bottles of Firewhisky nervously. "Are you okay, Harry?" I asked tentatively, grabbing one from the grass. I held it up and examined it before casting him an anxious look. "This… isn't like you."

His face shut up. He turned away, picked up the other bottle and muttering, "I'm _fine, _Hermione, okay?"

I stared at him, torn between wanting to yell at him for not telling me about Voldemort having a daughter and asking him to tell me what was really going on. I crossed my arms as he struggled to his feet. "Yeah, Harry, you're always fine. Nothing could ever bother you to actually tell me what's _really_ going on?" I shook my head.

"What the hell are you _talking _about_?_" he asked, guilt flashing briefly across his face, acknowledging the lie. "You know I tell you everything important, 'Mione."

I let a mirthless laugh out. "Yeah, you sure do, Harry, just like you told me _exactly_ what you were doing when you left—"

"I left? _I_ left? If I recall correctly, Hermione, we _agreed_ to split up and each go to different destinations so that we could destroy as many Horcruxes as possible, because we were running out of time."

I bit my lip and looked disbelieving at him. "Is there anything you want to tell me, Harry? About what happened when you were off searching for Horcruxes? Anything important?"

He started at me for a long time. "No," he replied finally. "No, 'Mione, I don't think so."

I looked incredulously at him. "Right. Right, okay. Of course not. What was I thinking?" With one last look at him, I turned and left him there, sitting on the grass, watching me walk away with a look that was one part confusion and one part longing.

**. . .**

**Maddy POV**

I gaped at the letter in the mine hands. Read it again. And again. And one last time.

I was _in._ I was a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I had the job. Even after I stormed out of my interview. And cursed in front of my new boss. Despite everything. She had given me the job.

_Dear Madeleine Johnson,_

_I am pleased to inform you that the job of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts to first, second, and third years is now yours. Classes will begin tomorrow at eight-thirty sharp. Your classroom is the third door down the Cold Hallway, on the first floor. Your schedule, and a map of the school, is enclosed. _

_Thank you and I hope you enjoy your new job._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Headmistress Hermione Jane Granger_

I let out a joyful scream. "Yes! Yes! I did it!" I rushed to the other side of my apartment and threw open a window. I looked out and yelled, "Attention, everyone! Attention!"

A few random passerby looked around, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. "Up here!" I called helpfully, a crowd turned to me expectantly. I took a deep breath and shrieked at the top of my lungs, _"I got the job!"_

With that, I retreated back into my apartment, slammed the window shut, and did a little jig. Quickly, I began packing. In less than an hour, everything I needed to take was packed and ready to go. I sucked in my breath, turned on my heel, and Disapparted to outside the bounds of Hogwarts.

I got to where the carriages, pulled my Threstal, and cast a Disillusionment Charm on myself and my luggage, and slowly began my way to the castle. I didn't want anyone to see me—or, as a matter of fact, recognize me.

Especially Harry. I would talk to him when the time was right, I told myself.

Yeah. Right. Of course I would. Shaking the thought of my mind, I went straight to my office. Beyond that was my room that I would stay in. I waved my wand, and my room was instantly set up. I was about to try to find where the food was kept, when Hermione appeared in my classroom.

"Oh. Good," she said when she saw me. "You got my letter."

"Yes, I did," I replied carefully. I knew I probably should have apologized for the way I acted, but I really didn't want to—and I could be pretty stubborn when I wanted to be. "Thank you for giving me the job. I really appreciate it."

She smiled. "You were obviously the best choice for the job." She lowered her voice and shot me a conspiratorial grin. "Plus, I liked you the best."

I let out a laugh. "Really? After I told you about my _wonderful_ family tree and dropped a few F-bombs? Wow."

She grinned. "Oh, well. We're all adults here, aren't we?" She smiled and took a seat at my desk. "I just want to let you know—I didn't ask Harry. I thought that I would just ask you a much less… private question."

I sighed and put a hand on my hip. "Okay."

"Have you even _met_ Harry before? Does he know?"

I swallowed and felt myself go red. "Yes."

"Yes, you've met or yes, he knows?" she asked impatiently, leaning towards me.

I hid my face from her. "He knows. We've met. Both."

She raised her eyebrows. "He's met you. And… he knows." She turned away, and I heard her mutter, "and he didn't tell me."

"It wasn't like that," I told her honestly. "Really, it wasn't. I'm sure he wanted to tell you, especially that I'm his daughter, but he just… couldn't."

She turned, struggling for words. "Thank you for saying that," she managed, still trying to remain professional. "I just came to wish you luck on your first day of teaching. Remember; the first, second, and third, years have already had me as their teacher, because I couldn't find a replacement for Severus Snape. They might find it a little strange to have a new teacher at the beginning of the year."

I nodded. "All right. Thank you."

She gave me a little half-smile and a nod, and left.

**. . .**

I sat up from my bed, stretched, and scooted myself out of bed, walking over to look out the window at the sky. I would have liked the sun to be shining today, which would have been a good omen of sorts, but instead it was overcast and dismal, looking like it was going to rain. Even that, however, couldn't ruin my good mood.

Today was my first day of work. I was a firm believer in dressing to impress, and today was a big deal. I wanted to look good, of course, but I also needed to look professional.

I turned to my new closet with all my clothes and took a deep breath. This was it.

Sarah had let me dress her up like my own personal Barbie countless times, and every time I did, I would say the same thing to her as I turned her around to face the mirror so she could admire her gorgeous reflection: _the clothes make the day._

"_So where's this mystery guy of yours taking you?" I asked coyly, throwing open my closet and giving her my tell-me-everything-or-else look._

_She shrugged. "I'm actually not really sure, Mads," she admitted, shrugging and trying to stop herself from looking too incredibly excited. "He said he wanted to 'surprise me' or something."_

_I let the jeans I was pulling from their hanger drop to the floor. "Well, how the hell should I dress you, then, Sare?"_

_She giggled. "I asked him what he wanted me to wear, and he said he didn't give a damn."_

_My mouth dropped open. "Damn, Sarah, you sure can pick 'em."_

"_You didn't let me finish!" she said hurriedly, knowing exactly what I was about to say. "He said, 'I don't give a damn; you look beautiful in everything."_

"_Aww!" I cried, stooping to retrieve the jeans and holding them up. "He sounds like a keeper," I told her warmly, meaning it. Any guy who said that meant it. "I hope he deserves you."_

_She giggled happily. "More like I wish I deserved him."_

_I made a face at her. "Shut up. Any guy would be way lucky to have you." She opened her mouth to protest, but I cut her off. "But I'm sure you pushed the outfit subject? Because otherwise, this is hopeless."_

_Sarah grinned and admitted, "I asked how I should dress again, and he said that I could be casual."_

"_So definitely not a restaurant," I mused. "That's too predictable if he insists on surprising you. Maybe an… outdoors thing?"_

_Sarah simply shrugged as she walked over to my jewelry box and looked idly at the assortment of necklaces, bracelets, and rings. "Sure, whatever you say, Mads." Then she looked up nervously. "Just… don't overdress me. 'Kay?"_

"_Okay," I replied absent-mindedly, thinking of different date scenarios. "Okay. I've got it, Sare."_

"_What?" she asked. "Oh! The date? Don't spoil the surprise for me, Mads, he'd be crushed if I knew before he told me."_

"_I wouldn't," I replied impatiently. "And I don't know, either. But I was thinking—jeans. Jeans go with everything."_

_Sarah gave me a blank look. "Um, yeah. Okay."_

"_So I'll put you in my best jean shorts—"_

"_No! I don't want to wear something really nice, Mad, I wouldn't—"_

_I spoke over her. "And a cute, casual top. Then I'll give you a fancy sweater to slip on once you see hat he's wearing. We'll plan an emergency outfit—two—one for fancy and one for casual."_

_She sighed. "Okay. Fine."_

_I threw her some shorts, an adorable shirt just bordering on fancy-ish, and a snow-white cashmere sweater. When I was done with that, and deemed her outfit acceptable, I gave her a long silver chain with a small diamond hanging from it, and handed her the emergency outfits before sitting her down to work on the makeup._

"_Not too heavy," she instructed. "Natural."_

_I pulled out my super-thick black mascara, coating her lashes lightly, and used blue-black eyeliner to make her eyes pop. I skipped the foundation and blush—too fancy, and besides, Sarah hated that stuff anyway—and handed her chap stick. She was glowing._

"_You look amazing," I told her honestly._

"_It's all your doing," she giggled in reply, staring at herself in the mirror before turning to me with a grin._

_I shrugged fake-modestly. "The clothes make the day."_

I grabbed the outfit I'd laid out, and slipped it on, turning to look in the mirror. Picking up my silver locket from my jewelry box, I held it up and slowly fastened it around my neck before stooping to grab my kitten heels and black robe. Slipping it on, I shot a glance at my clock.

"Shit!" I shouted, shoving my feet into my heels and sprinting out of the room. Breakfast was at seven-thirty every morning, and it was already eight-fifteen. _Way to oversleep on your first day of work, Mads,_ I scolded myself, dashing out of my classroom and down the hall, hoping that breakfast wasn't over yet. I didn't want Hermione thinking I was being lazy by oversleeping.

But I heard the benches scraping as I arrived, and Hermione calling, "Have a wonderful first day of school! First years, if you could stay behind to receive your schedules—"

"Shit," I sighed, turning away and hurrying back to my classroom. I sat at my desk and waited for the students. But after a minute or so, I figured just sitting there would probably intimidate them, so I stood up and began writing my name on the blackboard in front of me.

One by one, the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years filtered in, looking, some looking nervous, others apprehensive. Some looked absolutely terrified, and a few looked excited. I smiled at each of them, doing my best to seem friendly, confident, and inviting. If I betrayed that I was nervous, then they might think I was too inexperienced and try to mess with me.

They all sat down and looked expectantly towards me. Everything I'd planned to say instantly flew out the window.

My mind was blank. I had no idea what I was even _doing_ here.

"Hi!" I heard someone say. "My name is Madeleine." _Oh. I was the one talking_, I thought. _Okay, then._ "You can all call me either Miss Maddy, or Professor Maddy, whichever one you prefer."

They were silent.

"So!" I spotted a cute girl, with blonde hair twisted into braids, and blue eyes. I smiled at her and asked, "What's your name?"

She was very pretty. Her hair was halfway down her back, and she looked young for her age. Her lips parted in surprise, and she opened her mouth as if to answer me, but nothing came out.

Trying not to embarrass her, I changed the subject. "We're all going to go around the room and say our names. Since the girl sat in the first row, on the left side, I pointed to a boy in the right back corner and said, "Let's start with you."

He sat up straight, and looked at me proudly, as if going first made him special.

"So say your name, and one thing about yourself," I instructed.

"My name is Ian, and I found out I was a wizard exactly three weeks, one day, and seven minutes ago!"

"Wow, you're good at math!" I praised him with a grin. He nodded importantly, and we continued around. There was a girl named Madison, with chestnut brown hair and brown eyes, who was Viktor Krum's niece, and she said that Hermione had said she might play Quidditch even though she was a first year. And there was another boy, Joe, who was missing his two front teeth, and informed us all of that before adding that he had he had an older sister, Melanie, in the seventh year.

When we got the second to last girl, she reported, "I'm Sara."

"Wow, that's my best friend's name," I told her. "It's a very pretty name, isn't it?"

She nodded importantly. "My favorite color is purple," she went on. "And this is Skye. _Her _favorite color is blue. Like her eyes. You can remember her name like this—blue Skye, blue eyes. See?"

She opened her eyes wide, as if to demonstrate, even though her eyes were green. "That's very nice of you," I told her kindly, "But maybe Skye can tell us all that herself?"

I turned to the little girl, who blushed and deep red and looked away quickly, mumbling, "My name is Skye. I like blue."

"Thank you," I said to her, frowning as I turned away. "Now, I'm going to be teaching you all Defense Against the Dark Arts. Does anyone know what that means?"

Ian and Madison both raised their hands. Before I could call on anyone, he blurted out excitedly, "Learning how to defend yourself against Dark wizard or Dark Magic, right?"

I laughed. "Right. Except next time, please wait until I call on you to answer."

The rest of the class went smoothly. I told them about dueling, and then they read a chapter on it in their books, and completed a worksheet on it. Their homework was to finish the worksheet if they hadn't in class. Then the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff third years came in, and I told them that they would mostly be working on magical creatures, how to defeat them or protect yourselves from them, and things like that. When their class was over, I had a free period to plan my lesson for the second years, which I really hadn't worked on up until that point. Second years were the hardest for me.

First years were just beginning. Third years knew what they were doing, but second graders were right in the middle and I was still working on a lesson plan for them.

I considered doing a recap of what they'd done with first years, and preparing them for third year, but it just seemed boring. When they arrived, I mostly did 'class bonding' exercises, and told them that tomorrow we would more of a lesson planned.

It was eleven o'clock and I had yet another free period. Each period was one hour long, with five minutes in between class. After thirty minutes of fruitlessly trying to figure out a lesson plan for all the second years, I decided to take a break and write to Sarah.

_Dear Sarah,_

_You'd love it here. The kids are adorable! There's this one know-it-all, over-excited type kid named Ian, and another girl name Madison who's Viktor Krum's niece. Isn't that cool? First years aren't allowed to play Quidditch, but she might be able to—she's a Gryffindor. The Head of House for Gryffindor is Hermione Granger (the Headmistress), who's really nice and still gave me the job after I stormed out of the interview. I think I might actually become friends with her._

_Anyway, I overslept and missed breakfast. Not good. But I didn't sleep through my classes or anything, I woke up with just enough time to pick out my outfit, put it on, and start teaching. After all, as you know, the outfit makes the day._

A loud ban against the window made me jump. I got up from my desk and opened up the window, cautiously looking around. There was a loud screech, and down on the ground lay Sarah's old, practically useless owl named Owl.

No, really, that was his name. Sarah had gotten him when she was really little, and that was the best name she could come up with. So, Owl was very old, very tired, and very bad at delivering letters. Also, he was practically blind and deaf.

Letting a pathetic hoot out, he flew inside the classroom and landed in a heap on the floor. I gave him some water and put him the cage that the classroom had come with.

I went back to letter.

_And I literally just got your letter, I'm going to read it later, when I finished this one first, but I'm guessing it's you wishing me good luck on my first day on the job. A little late, Sare, but it's the thought that counts. I bet you sent it last night, but Owl was always a little bit slow._

_How many times have I told you, you need a new owl? Many, many times. He's too old for sending letters. I'll let him stay here for a while, okay, because he looks like he's in serious need of some R and R. I'll send this with one of the Owlery owls, all right? _

_Well, I send my love to you and everyone else. I'll see you soon, okay?_

_ Love always,_

_ Maddy_

I sealed the envelope and left it on the desk to send later. I picked up Sarah's letter, but figured I'd read it before I went to sleep later that night.

The bell rang, signaling that it was time for lunch.

I made my way done to the Great Hall. To say I was nervous was probably the understatement of the century.

_Two years,_ my mind screamed. _What are you doing here, Maddy? He's going to think you're been stalking him for all theses years, and now you've finally taken it too far! Go home!_

_But where is home?_ I asked myself. _I don't have a home. _I tok a deep, steading breath, and reminded myself of all the reasons I'd come here in the first place. _What do you have to lose, Maddy?_

I shook my head, trying to clear it, and stepped into the Great Hall. It was still filling up with teachers and students, getting ready to eat. I descended the steps, scanning the room unconsciously for a tall man with untidy black hair… I didn't see anyone that looked like him.

Two men, waking side by side, were behind me, talking about the Quidditch World Cup. "It's going to be fantastic, mate, did you manage to get tickets?" a strangely familiar voice was asking. I slowed down, trying to listen.

"Yeah, one for me and one for Luna," replied his companion, sounding happy but slightly embarrassed.

"Oh, so is it official then? Blimey, seems like only yesterday Harry was—"

I lurched to a stop, and one of the two men slammed into my back. I winced in pain, spinning around to see one, tall, gangly redhead and another pale man with black hair. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" I said. "I didn't mean to, I—um—tripped."

"Okay," replied the redhead with a smile. "It's all right." He held out his hand. "I'm Ron Weasley, the DADA teacher? For the fourth and fifth years. You are…?"

I shook his hand, smiling, remembering where I'd heard his voice before. He was the one who'd been in the hallway before, when he and Harry almost found me. "Oh, right. I'm Madeleine Johnson—Maddy, I you want."

"Maddy," he repeated. "Great. So you're the new teacher, for the first, second, and third years? I don't envy you."

I laughed, falling into step with them. "Why not? They're cute."

He shrugged, pulling a face. "I don't know—I'm not a big fan of teaching the basics—I like the more advanced stuff, you know?"

I nodded. "Then why aren't you teaching the sixth and seventh years?"

Ron let out a laugh. "Because Harry teaches them—and The Chosen one is just a bit more qualified to teach the most advanced things than me."

I felt a nervous thrill run through me—just from hearing his name—and reminded myself not to expect anything. I laughed with him before turning to the other man, who had an honest, handsome face, and black hair. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Ron. And you are?" I asked, holding out my hand for a shake.

"Neville Longbottom," and he shook my hand firmly.

"Nice to meet you both."

We made our way to the teacher's table. I hesitated, wondering exactly where I should sit—and also, though I didn't want to admit it—where Harry sat. Ron, however, made it a lot easier. He gestured to the seat on Hermione's immediate right, and took the seat beside me.

Neville sat beside him, and after a minute, a beautiful woman with big blue eyes blonde hair sat down next to Neville.

Hermione stood up, made a speech, and then everyone began to eat. She looked towards me. "I see you've met Ron and Neville," she said with a smile. "This is Luna," she added, gesturing to the blonde. "She teaches Care of magical Creatures."

Luna smiled pleasantly, and went back to eating. Under her breath, Hermione continued, "Luna is a little strange, and she has many…" Hermione paused delicately, "… _beliefs_ that are not always true. It's usually best not to question them, although some have been right."

I smiled and nodded, still scanning the room, looking desperately for the one face I wanted to see. He wasn't there.

Hermione was continuing, "Neville teaches Herbology, in case you didn't know, and Ron teaches Defense Against—"

"There's no need to say the _whole entire thing,_ 'Mione," Ron cut in, his mouth full. "No one else drags the word out forever and ever." He rolled his eyes and swallowed. "Just say DADA. Easier and faster."

She rolled her eyes and said lightly, playfully, "Eat with your mouth _closed,_ Ronald."

He did. I helped myself to a helping of salad, my eyes glued to the door, waiting for him to enter. I wondered if he had changed much. Then I wondered if he really did despise me as much as he had said he did, if not in words, then in his eyes.

_Oh God. Oh God. What were you thinking, coming here?_

"Madeleine. Made—"

"Maddy," I interrupted. "It's Maddy... my name is Maddy." My eyes on the door, my heart pounding out of my chest as it slowly, slowly opened.

My breath caught. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the door, as I stared, waiting, willing him to walk through the door. As a figure slowly made its way into the room, I panicked. _What will her do? What will he say; how will he react?_ I straightened up, steadied my breathing, and swallowed hard, trying to calm my racing heart. _It's now or never, Maddy. All or nothing._

_There's nothing left to lose,_ I reminded myself. _Nothing at all._

**Well, I hope you all liked it! Five reveiws, pretty please! If there's any typos, and I'm sure there are tons, I'm sorry, I have a tendancy to miss them when I read through. And then I really, really hate seeing them in other peoples stories, but anyway. Sorry in advance. **


	3. Hello Again

**Hey everybody! Okay, so I know it's been a while since I updated, but you know everything been crazy, what with the start of school and soccer season. It seems like just yesterday, it was summer vacation, and now it's almost Christmas!**

**Okay, enough with the centimental crap. Without further ado, here it is, Chapter Three. I down nothing but Maddy and I expect five reviews at least for the next chapter? Okay? Thanks. :) Hope you enjoy!**

_I close my eyes, still see her face_

_I'd give my soul take back that day_

_Hello again_

_It's been too long_

**Maddy POV**

Well, as it turns out, it wasn't Harry. It was actually Jonathon Rogers, the Ancient Runes teacher.

My heart sank as he slipped into the room, and took his place on the far left end of the table. I turned my gaze down to my golden plate, and resumed my eating quietly, taking in the playful banter swirling all around me, trying to ignore Hermione's curious, sympathetic look.

I taught the rest of my classes and made my way up to the Owlery when they were all done, and mailed my letter to Sarah. I took food and fed Owl, and read Sarah's letter, full of good luck wishes. I went through the motions, but my heart wasn't in it. I stared out the window of my bedroom, as the ominous-looking clouds.

I loved the rain. Actually, I loved all weather, but I especially loved rain. I grabbed my dark-wash jeans, and a gray sweater, and gripped my necklace tightly before jamming my feet into my tall, black boots.

The weather almost always dictated my mood. Sunny, cloudless days made me feel happy, and when the day was overcast, no sun, no rain, basically no weather at all, I was sad.

But rain, actually rain, especially when I was in it… made me feel alert. Alive.

I turned my face up towards the sky and wished for a storm. Slipping into my charcoal gray sweater over my white T-shirt, cropped halfway down my stomach, and my favorite blue jeans.

I threw my blonde hair into a braid, and wiped off my makeup. I turned to the mirror, brought up my hood, and left the classroom. Humming softly to myself, I locked the classroom door and strung the key onto my necklace so that I wouldn't lose it. I turned to go before hearing Ron's voice, along with Hermione's.

I turned and tried to dash back into the classroom, but the door was locked. As I fumbled for the key, their voices got louder. They were approaching my classroom.

"So, can you come?" Ron was saying to Hermione. "This weekend."

"Yeah," she replied, a smile in her voice. "Of course. I'd love to."

They were both silent as I grabbed for the key around my neck and quickly pulled it off the chain. I was about to shove it into the lock when they both rounded the corner and stopped at the sight of me.

"Uh, Maddy? Are you all right? Did you lock yourself out?" Hermione asked tentatively.

I felt my cheeks turning red. I cleared my throat, turning reluctantly to meet them. "No," I responded, going for off-handed and failing miserably, "I've got the key right here."

"Oh."

Ron stood by awkwardly as Hermione and I looked at each other, neither of us saying anything. My eyes flickered interestedly between her and Ron, an idea coming to mind, and she quickly said, "So! I should be going to… talk to Jonathon. About Ancient… Runes. Yes." She excused herself and hurried away.

Ron laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels nervously, unsure of what to do or say next. "So…"

"So…" I echoed. "I'm going to go. Um, now. Bye."

I spun around and practically sprinted away.

**Harry POV**

"So, is that all you need, Luna?" I asked, putting my hands into my pockets and flicking my hair out of my eyes. _Time for a hair cut,_ I thought, making a mental note to ask Hermione to teach me the spell for that.

Luna frowned, combing her delicate fingers through her wavy, moonlight beam blonde hair, as if she was trying to remember something, but she wasn't sure what.

"Luna?" I repeated tentatively after a moment of silence.

She snapped back to. "No, I'm think that's fine." She smiled dreamily. "Thank you, Harry. The threstals will appreciate it."

"No problem." We both stood there awkwardly for a moment. "Do you think you'll make it to the World Cup, Luna?" I hurried to add. I remembered Neville saying something about buying tickets.

"Oh, yes, I love Quidditch." I grinned, remembered Luna's commentating from fifth year. She continued, "I think Neville bought us tickets. Near you, Ron, and Hermione, I expect. And Ginny and Dean, of course."

I nodded noncommittally. "So you and Neville are…." I trailed off, uncomfortable.

"A couple, I suppose," she supplied helpfully.

"Right. A couple." We were both silent, drinking this in. I wondered how I hadn't thought of Neville and Luna being together before two years ago. After all, they had a lot in common. Both sort of strange and shy, but brave, smart, and loyal. Tougher than you'd think. They'd spent so much time together in seventh year, too, with Ginny.

I was sure Hermione had caught onto it right away, and probably helped to set it all up. After all, she told Neville where to take Luna on their first date.

"_I was thinking the Three Broomsticks, like seventh year," he said nervously._

"_The Three Broomsticks?" she repeated, incredulous. "Like last year? But last year, you weren't a couple, and you were planning DA meetings. You want something a little more romantic, but somewhere Luna will feel comfortable."_

_He fell silent, thinking hard and twisting his hands together, looking miserable._

Luna smiled, bringing me back into the present. She looked thrilled at the very thought of being a coupkle. "I do like him very much," she said, sincere and almost embarrassingly honest, as always. "Ginny and I got very lucky, didn't we?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she always had a thing for you, didn't she?"

I cleared my throat uncomfortably, hoping for a subject change. I'd always thought of Ginny as a little sister, and that was likely never to change. But Luna, as socially ridiculous as always, plunged right ahead, oblivious to my obvious discomfort.

"And I always sort of liked Seamus. But when we really got to know you guys, we realized you weren't the ones for us—that they were right there in front of us, the whole time."

"You mean Dean and Neville."

Luna beamed and nodded. She turned back towards what used to be Hagrid's hut. It was the same as ever on the outside, but inside its walls were painted a powdery blue, with paintings Luna had done herself, and pictures crowding the walls.

"Well, I should go. Bye, Harry." And she turned to leave.

"Well, do you want to look for unicorns?" I found myself shouting, not wanting to be alone for some reason. _Unicorns. What a stupid suggestion._ "Or something else?" I added quickly. Luna smiled kindly.

"I'd love to, Harry, but it's going to rain."

I looked up at the sky. It had been gray and overcast all day, but not a single drop had fell, and I didn't believe that one would. I looked back at Luna and called as she opened the door to what would always be, to me, Hagrid's hut. "How do you know?" I shouted at her disappearing back as the door shut.

Turning back to the castle, I let out a laugh as one single raindrop landed on my forehead. I faced the sky, waiting for the rest of the rain to fall, but for a good minute, nothing came. I was about to turn back and start walking to the Forbidden Forest, when, all of the sudden, lightening crackled in the distance.

The heavens seemed to open; a torrent of rain emptied on me, and I laughed a deep, gut wrenching laugh, facing Luna as she waved from her window, giggling at me.

Running towards Hogwarts for shelter, I noticed a small figure in a gray sweatshirt, arms out, twirling around, relishing in the rain. For a moment, she seemed to be miles and miles away, untouchable, vivacious with a sort of careless beauty. It was only when I blinked, still sprinting, that I noticed that she was right in front of me, only inches away, unaware of my presence, still smiling up at the sky.

"Oh!" she cried, noticing me just as I ran into her, knocking both us of down, landing in the mud and rolling downhill slightly.

"Sorry about that," I said, reaching down to help her up. "I didn't see you, the rain is so—"

And that's when she finally turned around to face me, her eyes so shocked that I might have exploded right before her eyes.

She was no less beautiful than I remembered; in fact, I thought she looked even more angelic and perfect than when I had last seen her. Like last time, it was pouring rain, and she looked stunningly, heartbreakingly beautiful. Her perfectly blue eyes were with surprise, her pink lips forming an O. Her hair was pulled back into a braid, and her hood was up, hiding her from me.

After all this time, she couldn't hide from me. No. I reached up and pulled the hood back from her face, softly, gently. And her full face overwhelmed me, the beauty, the perfection, the familiarity.

"Hello again, Maddy."

There. I said it. I couldn't believe I'd really, actually said it.

She just stood there, staring, watching me like a ghost. "Hi."

Part of me wanted to grab her and hold her, take her in my arms and tell her how much I'd missed her, how much I loved her, how nothing—_nothing_—was the same without her. But another part was still angry, confused, and hurt. Another part still wanted to know why the hell she was here, and another part—probably the larger part—didn't know what the fuck I was supposed to do, or say, or how to act.

"Long time no see," I finally settled on, the words coming out before I could fully think them through.

_Long time no see? Long time no see? What the fuck, Potter? After two years, after envisioning this moment over and over again, that's all you could come up with? Really?_ Although, in my defense, in none of these fantasies had we been in the pouring rain, and in none of these fantasies had she been at Hogwarts.

"Yeah," she managed. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Maddy," I said, my voice serious, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm—I'm a teacher." Her voice seemed small, scared.

**Maddy POV**

He was here. _Here._ Looking more beautiful and perfect and even more like he deserved more, so much more, than what he had gotten. Than me.

"I'm—I'm a teacher," I practically whispered.

Memories were rushing back at me. Rain pelting down on, soaking me to the bone, but, much like today, I didn't even notice. Many, many, soft, sweet kisses under starlight nights and one unforgettable sunset, the warm lake water surrounding both of us.

"Hermione hired you?" Surprise was evident in his tone of voice, before it became slightly angry. "I'm guessing you didn't tell her about your family tree."

I started back into reality and stared at him, wondering if he'd really just said that to my face. "Actually, she does. I thought she should know, so I told her."

His mouth dropped open in shock, and his perfect green eyes filled with ire. "You're fucking kidding me, right? She knows? _She_ had a right to know, but I didn't? Are you serious?"

"She's my boss. I thought that she deserved to know."

"Right, okay. That makes _perfect_ sense."

My lower lip trembled. Somehow, when I imagined meeting him again, it hadn't been like this. He hadn't been angry or hurt. I'd run into his arms and let him kiss me, soft and sweet like so many times before. "Don't," I pleaded.

"Don't _what?"_ he snapped.

"Don't do this."

And just like that, his anger surged back up again, and a small part of me remembered me speaking those very same words to him, two years ago. _Don't do this. Please._

"Why didn't you tell me? Why the hell did I have to find out from _Draco _fucking _Malfoy?"_

My mouth went dry, and I struggled for an answer, but nothing came out. "I—I just—," I cut myself off.

"You just _what,_ exactly_?"_

"I'm sorry!" I shouted, the words echoing all around us. "I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? You think I wanted this? You think I wanted you to fucking hate me?"

Of course he wouldn't just hear me out. He wouldn't just let me scream until I was done, until my anger ran out. He got angry right back. "And you think I _liked_ being the last person to know? To find out that I meant that little to you? That I was just some fucking game, that it was all pretend? Yeah, I enjoyed that, Maddy."

"I'm sorry!" I cried, flinging the words at him, trying, trying, to make him understand. "Okay? Is that what you want to hear?"

"No. As a matter of fact, I never want to hear another word from you again." He wheeled around, his figure towering over me, and started to walk away, his back hunched over, dejected. Finished.

But before he could even take his first step, I grabbed his shoulder, feeling an electric shock run through me as I touched him. "Oh, no, you don't. You are not walking away from me, Harry Potter. Not this time. Not again."

He wrenched his arm away from me. "If you have anything else to say, say it. Otherwise we have nothing more to talk about."

I stared at his hardened features, and I felt the strangest urge to reach up and brush is hair out of his eyes, to lean forward and let his lips brush against mine…

He tried to turned again, but I wouldn't let him. "Don't you dare!" I screamed, and hot, angry tears welled up in my eyes. "I didn't have any choice, Harry! I wanted to tell you, ever since I found out the truth, but I was afraid—"

"Of what?" he retorted.

"Of him! Of what he would do to me when he found out, not only that I'd been sneaking out, but that I'd been seeing you, when I was fucking engaged, when he commanded me to—," I tried to go on, my the look on his face made me falter, and trail off. "Harry?"

"Engaged?"

It was perhaps that quietest thing he'd said to me since he'd run into me, but when I replayed the scene in my head, it seemed to be the loudest. Maybe it was the hurt, bitter look on his face. But most likely, it was the vulnerable look in his eyes that had made me forget everything I was saying.

"An arranged marriage. He would pick out of my top three choices. I couldn't say no, Harry, I didn't have a choice."

"That seems to be your excuse for everything, doesn't it?" Again with the quiet. "You always have a choice, Maddy. Everything is a choice."

"Not for me. Not for the Dark fucking Princess, the Death Eater of all Death Eaters, the one _equal_ to the Dark Lord's powers and mind. Everything was mapped out for me, from the day I was born until the day I finally managed to get out."

"Managed to get out? It wasn't jail, Maddy."

"It may as well have been."

And suddenly he was shouting again. "Oh, like it was so hard for _you!"_

Anger welled up inside of me. Who the hell was he to judge me? He had no idea, not the faintest inkling, of what it had been like for me, watching him leave, and waiting, waiting, for hours and hours, for him to come back. He never did. He didn't know how hard it had been to be tortured by your own fucking father, to grow up with someone you thought of as a mother and loved, and then find out she was the reason your mother was dead. He had no fucking idea what I had been through.

"It was, actually! Living with myself was hard enough, but the torture? The pain? And realizing that everyone I ever cared about knew more about me than I did. That was real fun!"

He appeared untouched.

"And you know what? I didn't fucking know who the _hell_ you were until I saw a picture. In some newspaper. And then, at some stupid Death Eater meeting, he mentioned you, and the plan to take you down, and I just—I had to warn you. I was going to tell you. I just—I couldn't, and—" Tears were starting to fall, ad I hoped to go that he just thought they were raindrops.

He shook his head pityingly. "Get out of here. Just leave."

"No." I shook my head vehemently. "No. I work here, and live here, and this is my home too, now, like it or not, Harry."

"You've worked with Voldemort," he said in an almost amused voice. "You're not going to teach here, of all places. When hell freezes over, maybe."

His words didn't connect at first. They didn't compute, and I stared blankly at him, until in a moment, understanding slowly dawned on me and the tears were gone. I wasn't angry. I wasn't pissed.

I was fucking furious.

"How dare you!" I screamed, forgetting myself. I beat my fists against his chest, shoving him back, away from me, and suddenly the only thought in my mind was that I had to get away from him. From who he had become, hardened with bitterness and anger. "How—dare—talk to me like—take it _back—,_" I demanded, unable to understand what I was saying. My face was right up in his, the rain beating down on both of us. It should have blurred my vision, but instead, everything was perfectly, crystal clear.

"Fuck you," he spat, with venom.

The breath blew out of me, and with it, the fight. "This is all wrong." I shook my head; at him or myself, I didn't know. He looked back at me, his strong arms wrapping arms my waist, pulling me close, but I backed reluctantly away. "This isn't us, Harry. We aren't like this."

"I know. I know."

For what seemed like a long time, we stood there, together, watching the rain fal around us. Probably only a couple of seconds passed before the moment was over, but ti felt like a ong, long time- possibly several beautiful, wonderful days.

"Harry?" I said, looking up at him like a child looking at Santa.

"Yes?"

"I'm… I'm sorry." He hugged me tight, and we stood there as one, for a long moment, for what felt like an eternity, before I knew that the sun had set, and the rain was stopping, and reality had set in once again. And I did the only thing left to do, the thing neither of us wanted to do but both knew had to happen: I pulled away.

He leaned down, his eyes on mine, and I knew what he wanted, but he couldn't—we couldn't. I put both my hands on his cheeks, stopping him, shaking my head, a soft, wistful smile on my face. "No."

"I know," he whispered, and I pulled back, my fingers slipping away from him, and turned.

And walked away.

**So... what'd ya'll think? I'm not sure it was my best chapter... but it's been a while since I wrote, okay? :) Anyway... review, pretty please!**


	4. I Always Return

_Now you're part of my history_

_That was a long time ago_

_You'd think I'd have learned_

_But it's hopeless you see_

**Maddy POV**

Sitting awkwardly between Harry and Ron at dinner, I tried not to let my elbows brush against either of theirs, which was, of course, impossible. I cleared my throat awkwardly and popping a piece of filet mignon into my mouth. I chewed and swallowed just as Ron asked, "So, are you going to the World Cup this weekend, Maddy?"

I coughed. "No. I mean… I don't have any tickets, so..." I trailed off awkwardly. "No. I guess not."

He nodded sympathetically, casting a look at Harry's stoic expression before saying, "That's too bad. Luna and Neville are going. 'Mione, Harry, and I are too." His tone was casual but forced, and I felt myself nod, trying to hide the twinge of jealousy I felt when I heard those words.

While Harry and I had barely exchanged more than a few sentences in the past couple of weeks since the incident in the rain, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Neville, and I had fallen into a pattern of friendship, or something akin to it. Luna and I had lunch together three times a week most of the time, in this gorgeous clearing in the Forbidden Forest. Ron and I talked all the time, Neville was incredibly sweet in an awkward way, but insanely brave. And Hermione, though she was technically my boss, was quickly on her way to becoming a very good friend of mine.

"All of you are going, huh?" I said, pushing the envy away.

"Oh, yeah," Ron continued, obviously oblivious. "And my sister, Ginny. With her boyfriend Dean." He started to go on, but Hermione subtly—or as subtly as she could, anyway—jabbed him with her elbow in the side. Ron grunted. "What was that for?" he asked in outrage, turning to her.

"What?" Hermione asked, all too innocently spearing a tomato and eating it.

I hid a smile behind my hand, exchanging and amused glance with Luna.

"You elbowed me," Ron said, crossing his arms like a petulant little boy.

"No, I didn't," Hermione denied.

"Yes, you did."

"No, I—"

"Anyway," I interrupted loudly, putting my fork down. "Tell me about your sister, Ron. I haven't heard much about her. Does she have the famous Weasley trait?" I laughed playfully, tousling his flaming red hair. Hermione stiffened slightly, and increased the pace at which she had been chewing her salad.

Ron laughed and grinned. "She does, actually, but hers is just a bit longer than mine is." He tugged on it.

We grinned together, both lapsing into a silence that was somehow not too awkward. I noticed some seventh year Ravenclaws whispering and watching us.

"Ron," I muttered. "Do me a favor, all right?"

He paused and raised his eyebrows. "That would depend on the favor, now, wouldn't it?"

"Wave to those girls over there—the Ravenclaws?"

He smirked, and wiggled his fingers at them condescendingly. Finally, their laughter died away.

He turned back to me. "Better?"

"Yes. Much."

He turned abruptly back to Hermione, ready to continue their discussion. "What'd you elbow me for?"

"I didn't elbow you, Ronald, so either your mind's going, or you're lying just to bother me."

"I'm not…."

**. . .**

Perching myself on Hermione's desk that night, I hummed a tune, tapping my high-heeled foot against the floor to the beat.

She laughed and grinned at me, pulling her hair out of its flawless bun. "Wine?"

I shook my head in response, shaking my hair out in long waves and throwing my black robes off onto the marble floor. "Thank God it's Friday," I groaned, stretching and unbuttoning my shirt to reveal a plain white workout T. "I hate _kids._"

Hermione laughed as she poured herself a glass of red wine and raised it. "I'll toast to that." Then she shook her head, taking a sip. "I shouldn't say that. I _don't_ hate kids. I hate all the stupid questions they ask."

I shrugged, cocking my head to the side and watching her. "So how long have you had feelings for Ron?" I asked suddenly, hoping to shock the answer out of her.

I should have known better.

Suddenly guarded, Hermione whirled on me and set the wine glass down firmly, back into 'boss' mode immediately. "Why would you say that?" she asked carefully, avoiding my eyes.

"Oh, come on, Hermione," I laughed, striding across the room and picking up her glass, taking a long drink, savoring the taste. "Anyone can see you guys would be perfect for each other."

She turned bright red, watching me as I sat in her office chair pulling my legs up to balance Indian style. "You have any jeans or sweatpants in here?" I wondered aloud. "I would _kill_ to get out of my work clothes."

"Bad choice of words," she told me, distracted. "And no."

"So? How old were you? Seventeen? Eighteen?"

"Twelve," she answered miserably, dropping her face into her hands.

"Twelve!" My mouth dropped open. "God, Hermione, really?"

She straightened up, grabbed the wine from my hand and bit her lip nervously. "I think they're here. How do I look?"

"Gorgeous," I told her, grinning and picking up the wine bottle, twirling it around in my left hand. I reached for a glass with my free hand, but before I could grab it, Ron, Harry, Neville, and Luna appeared in her office.

"Partying hardy tonight?" Ron asked, grinning as he entered, snatching the wine. He tossed it back ad forth from his left hand to his right, before throwing it across the room to Harry, who caught it. "What d'you say we hit up the clubs tonight in Hogsmeade?"

Hermione gave him a look, but before she could diss the idea, Luna piped up. "I don't think that's a very good idea," she said. "The seventh years can usually get in there."

Ron snorted a laugh. "Usually? The last time Neville and I went for drinks, half the seventh year class was there."

"I vote for clubbing this Wednesday, when we know they won't be there," I volunteered, and Ron nodded his approval. "I love your hair today, 'Mione," I said abruptly, turning to her and grinning. "It looks great, doesn't it?"

Ron nodded appreciatively and cleared his throat, mumbling, "Yeah, it does."

I beamed, and Hermione turned away, unconscious running her delicate fingers through her long, brown locks. Girl knew how to flaunt it, even if she was unaware that she was doing it.

"So," I continued, grabbing a Firewhisky from her refrigerator and opening it, "Halloween. What does one do one a day such as this, if we're not giving out candy to small children?"

"Truth or dare," Hermione suggested, sipping from her wine as the blush in her cheeks finally died down from my last comment. "That's always a fun game, but only if you're good and drunk." The last comment was met with quite a few eyebrow raises, and the red color returned to her cheeks full force.

"Speaking from experience, Hermione?" Harry asked, laughing at Ron's confused look. "I think we ought to explain to this lot how it's done."

Being the only two brought up by Muggles, Harry and Hermione were the only ones who knew what it meant. "A game," she explained, "where you choose to be asked a question, or tell the truth, or be dared, and you must follow up on the dare."

Ron's eyes sparkled with interest, and he exchanged a grin with Harry. "Who's to say we're not lying on Truth, then?"

Hermione shrugged and brought out a tiny vial, full of what I recognized to be Veritasiam. "Well, than, we'll have to give you a dose of this, then, won't we, Ronald?" She grinned mischievously. "And we'll need Firewhisky all around."

I passed one down to Harry, who took silently, trying not to meet my eyes, but our fingers brushed against each other, and his emerald green orbs shot up to meet my gaze. I stared right at him, refusing to look away, but he immediately turned to Ron and passed the bottle down, and refused to take the bottle I offered him next; instead reaching into the refrigerator for another one.

I felt my face burn as the other four watched us silently, and I took a long drink from my bottle.

Thank God for Luna. She piped up quickly, "So! Ron. Truth or Dare?"

Shooting her a grateful look, I leaned against the wall slowly, avoiding everyone else's eyes as Ron furrowed his brow thought, then conceded finally, "Dare. Hit me with it," he added, taking a long drink of his Firewhisky as if steeling himself for it.

Luna smiled innocently, almost angelically, and I walked forward, eager to hear this. "Well," she began, folding her arms tightly across her chest, still grinning.

Hermione let out a startled cry, and her arm shot up, her wand drawn so suddenly that I spun, certain someone was behind us, ready to attack at any moment. I drew my wand too, looking for whoever it was, but no one was there.

"What the hell?" I asked, storing my wand back in my robes.

But still, Hermione stood still as stone, her face unreadable as she pointed to a small, black figure that seemed to be burned into her wall. Everyone else's wands were out too, and I hastened to grab mine. We turned, backs to each other, awaiting the attack.

Hermione seemed to change personalities. She pulled on her robes in a flash, quickly pinning her hair back up as she straightened. Her chin held high, her eyes steely; she turned and addressed the group. "Harry, Luna, round up the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, get them into their dormitories. Ron, Neville—secure the castle. I'll notify the others." She lifted her wand. "_Expecto Patronum!" _A shining otter flashed in front of her and was gone in an instant as she muttered a short message for it to deliver.

"Maddy," Harry said shortly, throwing his robes back on. "With me." His eyes met mine, and something—maybe the way they were completely void of emotion, maybe the way he didn't look away immediately, as he always had theses past few weeks—made me follow.

"No," Hermione said, reaching out to pull me back. "Madeline's with me."

"Hermione—," he began.

"No. You forget, Harry, that I'm more than just your friend. Right now, I'm your boss, and you might want to think about what you're about to say." She stared right at him and he looked back, judging from the look in her eyes that this was not the time.

He turned and strode out the door without another glance towards me, just like the others.

"Okay." I turned to Hermione, righting my bun and grabbing my shirt, my fingers quickly finishing off the buttons. "What d'you want me to do? I can go round up the kids, or if I you want I'll—"

Her face contorted as I uttered the word _kids._ "Don't you dare go anywhere near them," she hissed, gripping her wand like a lifeline.

"What the hell? Hermione, are you okay?"

"_Expelliarmus! Protego!" _she cried, and a Shield had sprung up around me as fast as my wand flew out of my hand.

"What the _fuck_, Hermione? What's going on?"

"You think I'm stupid?" She flung the words at me, seething. "You think I don't know what's going on here? I trusted you. I really did, but I should have known better. You were right there, standing right by the wall, and suddenly the Dark Mark appears? I don't believe in coincidences."

"You think I did this."

She shook her head. "I pity you. I can't even imagine what it's like to be you—twisted and evil and dark—" Hermione cut herself off, shaking her head and breathing deeply. "I don't have time for this. I'll deal with you later."

"Hermione!" I shouted, slamming my hands against the Shield.

But she was gone.

**Harry POV**

This wouldn't happen again. I wouldn't let it. I would keep the kids safe. Not one of them would pay for a war that had ended two years ago. Not one.

"Gryffindors, with me," I shouted as the Gryffindors got to their feet slowly, confused and scared, the murmurs growing louder and louder, until—

"It's them, isn't it?"

My head snapped up, and I turned, seeing a seventh year I recognized from classes. She was smart, good at Defense Against the Dark Arts. She'd been the first to produce a Patronus—come to think of it; she'd been in the DA, fifth year.

"This is how it was before," she continued, and the sixth and seventh years nodded remembering. "Most of us weren't old enough to fight then, but we are now, and if they're here—" She stopped, her voice breaking, but she'd said enough.

"I'd fight," A boy next to her said, and I felt pride swell in my heart.

"So would I," she continued, giving him a grateful look. "And I be willing to bet that almost every Gryffindor here, of age, would. We'd fight."

There were scattered yells of approval, followed by applause.

I found my voice. "That's very brave of you all. Thank you, but that's not necessary. It's just a precaution. He's finished; they're finished. The war's over, it's been over and now we're just taking some precautions—just in case."

They filed out, subdued, but I saw her watching the windows, and noticed how her wand was at the ready. I saw the ay she gripped it, and how she unblinkingly waited, her eyes impatient.

There was something not right about it, but I couldn't tell. She waited and waited, not looking away, simply moving forward with the rest of her House, her eyes never straying, not once.

I joined Neville and Ron at the entrance, casting protective spells alongside them.

"So," Ron said, not meeting my eyes, "What was that? With Maddy?"

I shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about, mate. Hermione just wanted her for—"

He turned to me, angry. "I think," he replied, moving closer, "That it's about time you let me in on whatever you and Hermione have been hiding these past weeks. Or maybe I'll just ask Maddy myself, of you've for some reason decided that—"

"Voldemort," I cut across him. "It's Voldemort, all right, that's his sign and Hermione wanted Maddy for a special… job."

"Really?"

"Really." _I hoped._

Ron made a disgusted face. "You know, I always knew you and 'Mione thought you were smarter than me, or maybe that I didn't understand certain things. But I'm smart enough to _understand _that you're keeping secrets."

I turned away, trying to finish the conversation, but Ron reached around and wheeled me back around to face him.

"And I can help, if you care to share, Harry." His eyes searched my face. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, Ron, just let it—"

He turned and walked away.

"Hey! Where the hell are you going?" I shouted after him, but he didn't look back, didn't reply, just kept walking. "Ron! Hey, Ron!"

Neville shot me a sidelong glance and said quietly, "Everyone knows, Harry."

I looked at him blankly. "Everyone knows what?"

He smiled, and his expression was full of—what? Pity? No… it was more like… sympathy. He felt sorry for me. "Well, maybe we don't _know._ We're not sure what went on with you and Maddy, whenever you met, over the summers at your aunt and uncle's place, when you were destroying Horcruxes, whenever. None of us really know, Harry, but we're not dumb, deaf, or blind."

"Neville."

"No, I don't want you to tell me. I don't need to know. But you don't have to pretend like you too have never met before. We have eyes." He turned and took a few steps in the opposite direction before turning back. "You should tell Ron." And he walked away.

**. . .**

**Maddy POV**

"Hermione? What the hell? Hermione!" I shouted after her. But she didn't come back. All I heard were the distant sounds of doors slamming shut, and footsteps hurrying across the floor. "Dammit, 'Mione, get back _in_ here and let me the fuck out!"

I slammed my fists against the Shield, but it pushed me back and I was thrown onto my back, slammed against the hard, cold floor. My head hit the ground and I felt my eyes slowly, slowly closing.

Sleep. I just needed to sleep. When I woke up the nightmare would all be over. That sounded about right, anyway.

I drifted in and out of pleasant dreams. At first there was nothing but white fog. Mist swirled around, making it impossible to see even my hands right in front of my face. But it moved away and I heard laughter—happy and carefree.

It was my laugh, I realized after a beat. My laugh. A voice, a familiar one, called, "Maddy! Maddy?"

I saw a small girl look up form playing with dolls. A woman with black hair stood before her—stood before me—and smiled fondly. She stooped, ruffled my hair lovingly, and picked up my dolls, carrying them to my king-size four-poster bed.

"Hey!" Little me was on her feet in an instant, hands placed firmly on her hips. "What are you doing with my dolls, Bella?"

"Time for bed," she replied, scooping me up into her arms and carrying me over to my bed. She lowered me gently down, tucked me in, and smoothed my hair back out of my eyes. "Your dolls will watch over you, okay, precious?"

"Okay, Bella," I replied trustingly. She dropped a kiss on my forehead and turned to leave. "Bella?"

She turned. "Yes?"

"Where's Daddy?"

She walked back over and seemed to struggle for words. "He's busy, sweetheart. He'll see you tomorrow, okay, baby girl?"

I nodded, my eyes already to heavy to process what she'd said. My eyelids gently closed and my breathing became steady, constant, as she sat in the dark room and watched over me with her wand drawn. As I watched from above, her eyes became more and more tired, her face was more lined and she looked exhausted, rundown, but she sat. Waiting. For what, I didn't know. But her eyes didn't stray once from my sleeping body.

I was changing, too. I was growing taller and my hair was becoming longer. The resemblance to my mother became more and more clear. We were aging, I realized.

Suddenly, Bellatrix sat up, her back erect. She rose as the door to my room banged open and my father burst in.

"Where is she? Where is the little bitch?" he seethed. He slammed the door shut up and aimed his wand at the bed. _"Dammit! _Where is she, Bellatrix?" Slamming his fist into the wall, he aimed his wand at her, but she was already gone. She'd fled. The door was ajar and her footsteps were echoing down the stars, her breathing still audible as she rushed out of the tower.

He let out a scream, more terrible and more terrifying than anything I'd ever heard.

"Maddy! Maddy—wake up! Wake the hell up!"

He was still there, still screaming, his eyes scarlet red slits, his face disturbingly snakelike. Lord Voldemort. My father. He was running now, towards my old bed, ripping back the curtains that concealed me. His face contorted, filled with ire and insanity. His wand was raised and he brought it slashing down, screaming out the curse. A flash of green light and then—

My eyes wrenched themselves open.

"Maddy." It was a male voice that spoke, and he was clearly relieved. But who?

My skin was drenched in sweat. Someone was sobbing, bawling, the most pathetic sound I've ever heard. I gasped for breath and slowly sat up, keeping my hands balled into fists.

"Are you okay—Maddy?"

"Maybe you should slap her. Or throw ice water on her, perhaps," a dreamy voice suggested as everything slowly came into focus. Luna. Ron, sitting next to her on his heels, their faces both the picture of concern.

"Maddy!" she let out a sigh and moved closer to me. "What the hell happened to you?"

"He's back," I choked out as three people sprinted up the stairway to Hermione office. Harry, Hermione, and Neville rounded the corner. Harry was sweaty and wild-eyed. He searched their room and his eyes met mine, and I knew he understood. Somehow, he knew. He'd felt it, too.

"He's back," I repeated, and Hermione paled, shaking her head jerkily.

"Voldemort," Harry added, and we both winced. "Voldemort's back."

. . .

I was shaking all over. I coudln't contorl myself: not my thoughts, not my body, not my rage. My rage. My anger.

It was building up in side of me, like lava in a volcano, reading to erupt at any moment.

My father. Just thinking it made me sweat, made me clench my fists in fury. I hated him. I despised him. I loathed him, detested him, abhored him. He repulsed me. I would have given anything not to ahve to see him again. And yet... yet I longed for one last glimpse of the human name he once was. I yearned to relive those rare moments when their was a flash of humanity in his eyes, a fatherly love, a tenderness I had seen only once.

I_ stood, fifteen years old, in my favorite pair of jeans and off-the-shoulder shirt, holding onto my locket nervously. "You asked for me, Father?"_

_"Yes," he replied, his voice cold, impassive. "I need you to do something for me." He turned swiftly to me, his face set in an apathetic mask of stone. And then, so suddenly, his features rearranged themselves. He was shocked at first, and then his eyes softened into the closest thing to love I had ever seen in his eyes. "You look..."_

_I froze. Mentally bearting myself for not wchanging into something more formal when I came down, I straightened up, hoping that my posture would make up for my appearence. "Father, I," I began._

_"Just like her," he breathed. He descended the sotne steps quickly, almost clumsily, and if I didn't know better I would have tought he was eager to see me. He moved close. "Exactly like her. It's... uncanny. You two could be twins." He sighed, seeming... content. "There is absoluetly no trace of me in your face. Not one."_

_I knew who he was talking about, and I wanted to ask a question... not just one. HUndreds. All of them that I'd had over the years. The ones that I couldn't pester Bella with, the ones that no one but he would know the answers to. But i coudln't bring myself to speak. I felt that if I dared to open my mouh, my words would shatter the moment, fragile and tenuous as it was. I simply looked at him, and felt a contradiction rise up within me. I'd always been glad I didn't look like him: I'd known tht he was once incredibly handsome, but the way he looked then was... repellent, honestly. The coldness in his eyes gone, however, I could finally see the likeness between him and me. We had precisely the same color eyes. _

_"Good," he said to himself. "She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, you know," he added to me, almost conversationally. Stunning." He chuckled. "And so trusting. So innocent." The smile disappeared from his face. "I took that from her."_

_And then the pain on his face broke my heart._

_"Father," I began. "I know this is personal, but... I need to know..."_

_"My Lord!" a voice shouted, as the door slammed open, as two Death Eaters with their hoods still on entered. My father's head snapped up immediately._

_"You are dismissed," he said to me, his face smoothed over with that familiar frigid expression. "Go now."_

_I spun and left the room at a jog, desperate to get out, desperate for some hair, for the privacy of my room, for the ability to throw myself on my bed and cry. Cry for the opportunity that I had lost; that I would most liekly never have again. _

I never had the chance to ask him my question. I wasn't sure fi I wanted to knwo the answer or not anymore. But it didn't matter. I had accepted, a long time ago, that he was evil. That, never mind if he was in pain or had, at one point, loved my mother. That it didn't matter if he, somehwere, deep down, loved me with even a tenth of his heart. At the core, where it really mattered, he was selfish as hell. He didn't care if I lived or died, if nayone did but himself. He wanted only pwoer nad fame and glory. At the core, he was vile and malicious.

But he was my father. I despise him. Really, honestly, truly I did. And still... none of that mattered.

He was my dad. My only living relative.

It didn't matter how much I deplored him. It was hopeless to think I'd been rid of him. He would always, always find a way back.

**So... what'd you all think? I worked forever ont his chapter, especailly finding a song that worked... but I finally got it and I'm alreayd halfway done with the next chapter! So... reviews? Whatdaya think? As an early Christmas present? After all, it is Christmas Eve!**


	5. What Happened to Us

**I don't own Harry Potter. Too bad, cause I be he's hot...**

**Okay, so I did write a lot more for this chapter, incidentally, but then it really didn't fit the overall theme of the chapter, which was, of crouse, sad. Despressing, I know, I know, but honestly, I'm trying to get done with background stuff, and move onto the good stuff, because I have the best stuff! (See what I did there? With Snapple's stuff thingy? Funny? No? Yeah, I dind't think so. Whatever.) Anyway. For ther next chapter, I have big plans. Collossal plans. Well, not collossal. No... wait... yeah. Collassal. New characters, new friendships, new everything! It's gonna start picking up soon, I promise. All you people who favorited and reviewed and all that jazz, I love you! You're freaking awesome! Now. Enjoy. And that's an order, sweetie. XOXO, have fun!**

_What happened to us? We used to be so perfect_

_Now we're lost and lonely_

_What happened to us? And deep inside I wonder_

_Did I lose my only one?_

**Maddy POV**

The warm water was beating down on my bare sin, and I luxuriated in the moment of relaxation, pure and perfect. My muscles unwound, my hair came down, my brain went on neutral.

God, this felt amazing.

After the horrible week I'd had, I thought I deserved a little bit of rest and relaxation, and I was taking every advantage of not having any classes to teach, or lessons to plan at all.

Squirting some conditioner into my palm and massaging it in my scalp, I let out a satisfied sigh, thanking God for my discovery of the Prefect's bathroom. It was gorgeous, without any aggravating ghosts with high-pitched, nasal voices. The shower was heavenly—much better pressure than the one in my private bathroom—with a swimming pool sized bathtub I had yet to use. All I had to do was put an age line around it, and I was set, because no other teachers used it. At least, according to the stain glass mermaid, giggling above me, flashes her smile and combing her long, blonde mane of hair.

Done with my shower, I rinsed my hair out, hugged my arms to my chest and reached for the knob, turning it to the left to turn it off. Instead, the heat seared my entire body, and I took a halting step back in shock, reaching around the boiling water to turn it off. _Righty tighty, lefty loosey,_ I reminded myself, shaking my head. My night was ruined, all in one.

All week I'd screwed up. The second years' lessons, my teaching weakness, were a complete disaster, and they all hated my class. They entered the room dragging their feet, and rushed out of the door as soon as the bell rang, not even bothering to hide their disdain for my pathetic efforts at teaching. This afternoon, I just gave up and let them have free time while I fruitlessly scoured the lesson books for something worthwhile.

Every single third year but one failed the test on Grindylows, and Hermione had locked me into some sort of Wizard shield earlier that week because she thought I was about to attack the Hogwarts students. I'd thought she really trusted me; I'd really, honestly believed that my family heritage didn't matter to her, that she understood my desire to be my own person. That she completely accepted me for who I was. Obviously I was wrong.

On top of that, now every one of my friends, and even the rest of the faculty knew about who my father was. Hermione had given me some bullshit about everyone being 'aware of what was going on' and 'they could be trusted.' However, the whispers and unashamed stares were more than slightly disconcerting.

Ron wouldn't even look at me.

Luna was sympathetic enough, but Neville just seemed to pity me.

Pity was the last thing I wanted. Harry, despite the comfort we took in each other's mutual understanding and terror that night we discovered my father was returning, hadn't uttered a word to me since.

And now—now I couldn't even remember how to turn the fucking shower off.

I yanked the curtain back, stepped out, and snatched a plain white towel off the hook, and began drying off my hair. I started rubbing my arms down, humming a tune, trying to make myself forget about my completely awful life. Once I was dry, I turned, beginning to wrap myself in the towel, and—

"Shit!" I blurted out, whirling back to keep my back to none other than Harry Potter, the very man who'd been avoiding me since I'd arrived here.

At the same time, his eyes grew wide and he froze.

"What the hell, Harry? What the hell are you _doing_ in here?"

"I—"

"Get out!" I shrieked, quickly concealing myself in the towel and tying a knot so that it wouldn't fall down. I turned to face him. "What are you even doing in here?"

"What am I doing here? What are _you_ doing here, Maddy?"

Not exactly sure how to tell him that, on one of my worse nights, I'd consumed a considerable amount of alcohol and somehow found my way into the House Elves' kitchen, where they'd fed me up and told me about the Room of Requirement and the Prefect Bathroom.

There were two options here: essentially, fight for flight. Truth or lies.

Lies it was.

But the lies I was about to feed him died on my tongue when I noticed his clothing—shorts, and nothing else. I'd been so focused on my mortification that I hadn't even noticed his… shirtless state of being.

God, how had that escaped me?

And suddenly, I knew both of us were remembering a wonderful night, the warm water surrounding us, pushing us together as our clothes disappeared and we—

_Enough with the reminiscing, Mads,_ I commanded myself, shaking my head as if I could clear it that simply.

"I'm showering," I replied, frantically trying to cover as much of myself as possible while only wearing a towel.

**Harry POV**

I couldn't find it in myself to respond. My eyes roved freely, taking in everything, committing it all to memory. It would never be mine; never. Never again.

She was someone else's, some jackass's to touch, to love, to kiss, to cherish—

I had to get used to that idea. I couldn't find it in myself to look away; I didn't possess enough self-control for that. _What man would?_ I asked myself sadly, knowing that if anyone other than myself had walked in here just now, he wouldn't have been able to restrain himself from… well… and I wouldn't have been able to restrain myself from letting my fist connect with his face.

I knew I should look away. It was the right thing to do, the honorable thing to do. But I didn't care about being honorable anymore, not right now. I couldn't. All I wanted to do was take off my clothes, and get into the shower, and bring Maddy with me…

_Calm down._

She seemed to be looking at me, too, and suddenly I was self conscious, trying to remember what I'd looked like shirtless when I was seventeen.

_Probably the same_, I reassured myself. _More or less._

I wished for a shirt. Her fingers were loosening, ever so slightly, on the towel, and it was slipping down, down, down…

"Maddy!" I exclaimed, gesturing in the general direction, finding the will power to turn quickly away. _There_ was the decent man somewhere inside of me. Peeking out, telling me to look away just like I should have all along. "All good?" I asked, managing an off hand tone, as if this was a completely normal occurrence.

Since the start of the term I'd been avoiding her, trying to let go of her, trying to let her stay here and be happy. And now all my progress, the little bit of ability to resist her. was all going to hell.

"Yeah." She sounded incredibly embarrassed, but the fury had apparently died down as I turned to face her again. "Sorry." She'd knotted the towel tightly, and it fit like a glove, looking better than any article of clothing I'd ever seen her in before. "So, um…."

"Sorry," we both apologized simultaneously, than laughed a little. After a short, awkward pause, we both blurted out:

"I just—"

"Well, I—"

Another awkward pause, this one longer than the last, before we said, "You first."

Maddy shook her head, like she couldn't believe her luck, and smiled this gentle, remorseful smile. "I'm… gonna go. Now. You just… enjoy the, uh, shower." Shaking her head slightly, Maddy inched towards the door, reaching for the handle, making sure to stay far away form me.

I backed up quickly, opening the door for her, struggling to regain some of the dignity I lost.

She seemed to find some humor in the situation, and let out the tiniest chuckle. "How chivalrous," she teased me.

"I am, aren't I?" I grinned back at her, marveling at how she could turn the most awkward conversation yet since her arrival into a private joke. How she could somehow see the gallantry in walking in on her practically naked.

"Chivalry's dead." And now her voice was flat, spiritless. "I'll see you in the morning, Harry."

For a moment—not nearly enough time—she rested her hand on mine, on the doorknob, before pulling swiftly away and disappearing into her room. Slowly pulling the door closed, I heard an obnoxious giggle and nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Holy fu—"

"Language," the mermaid cut across me reproachfully. "Having deep thoughts?"

I glared forcefully at her and reached for the faucet, turning on the hot water and blue foam bubbles as big as soccer balls, emphasizing that it was time for her to turn around, as I was about to get in. However, she had no respect for my privacy—as usual. Removing my short and boxers, she let out a shrill little "Ooh, yummy!" and I turned my scowl on her. She made a face but backed away.

"So," she continued as I settled into the warm water, and prepared to swim a few laps, "those deep thoughts… care to share?"

"Not really," I admitted, dousing my face with the water and sighing.

"It's just a wonderful thing, having history with someone, yes? Makes it so much easier in the future, don't you think?" And with one more snicker—this one even more irritating than the last—she dove into her lagoon and swam away.

Thank God.

**. . .**

**Hermione POV**

_Just talk to her_, I told myself. _Just apologize already._

But I couldn't. Something just wouldn't _let_ me. I'd never liked being wrong, especially about people. Misjudging them was always one of my pet peeves. If I had just assumed they were something different than they actually were, the was one thing. But I had _acted_ on that suspicion, that tiny voice in the back of my head. And I hadn't just acted or accused her of something. No, what I did was much, much worse. I had _locked_ her into a shield; I had blamed her for the Dark Mark appearing in my office, and assumed she was a horrible person, trying to hurt the students and working with her father.

I doubted she would even forgive me if I tried. _So why try?_ I tried to convince myself. _Why even bother, if it won't matter?_

Ron knocked before opening the door quickly. "Hermione, hey."

"Ron. Usually when most people knocks, they wait for a reply and _then_ they enter."

"Yeah, well, I'm not most people, am I?" He flashed a grin and made his way behind my desk, collapsing into my chair and spinning around to face me. "I'm a very special person, right, Hermione?"

I couldn't help but grin, and did my best not to blush. Ron could just be so charming sometimes, despite his complete awkwardness, and disgusting behavior sometimes. He just brought out the giddy little girl in me. He stood up and walked closer, that playful, knowing grin flitting across his face, lighting up his features like a child who'd counted his Halloween candy and discovered how much he really had.

And just like that, I was a thirteen-year-old girl with a crush, weak-kneed and struggling with butterflies in my stomach and trying not to let a giggle escape.

"Whatever makes you happy, Ron," I giggled, brushing my hair out of my eyes. "So, why'd you decide to stop by?"

"Maybe," he grinned, "I just wanted to see how my dear old friend is doing, huh?"

I threw my head back and laughed. "Dear friend? Hasn't seemed like that lately."

Ron blushed and hung his head just slightly. "It's been a while since the three of us hung out. But we're kind of old to be going down to Hogsmeade and drinking Butterbeers in the corner booth, don't you think?" He paused, not giving me much of a chance to reply.

I shrugged. "If you say so." After hesitating briefly, I added, "But maybe, if it wasn't just the three of us… that might be okay?"

He turned, off his guard for once. "Hermione… what are you saying?"

I couldn't find it in me to respond. All I could do was stand there. I had put myself out there, as far as I could go, and now it was his turn. He could interpret that the way he wanted to. I just prayed it would be what I wanted to hear.

He was silent for so long that I thought he might not have heard. But the look on his face was clear enough that I was positive he had. He was uncertain, and then determined, his eyes blazing as he stepped closer and reached for my hand. My entire being hummed with anticipation as his skin touched mine; my skin sizzled like it always did. I couldn't breathe as he opened his mouth.

"Hermione," he whispered, like he had so many other times. Except that this was nothing like those other times. His voice as soft and tender, the look in his eyes raw and alive. I willed him not to let go of me. His hand, soft and warm, grazed my cheek, cupping it, as he leaned closer and my heart melted. "You're so—"

"Ronnie!"

My eyes flashed to the doorway, and Lavender Brown, in the flesh, bounded towards us, sugary sweet as always.

This could not be happening.

"Ronnie?" she repeated, her eyes narrowing as she took in our stance.

Ron's eyes, shocked, met mine, and his hand slipped away from my face. He swallowed. "You had an eyelash," he explained lamely, his voice hollow and lifeless. "Sorry."

We both knew he was apologizing for a lot more than that as he stepped back and Lavender latched onto his arm. I wanted to reply, but I was frozen, inside and out. And what was I supposed to say? How did I respond to that? I took a breath and tried to stay calm.

She leaned close and gave him a kiss. I willed myself not to faint dead away. He wasn't even looking at her. Instead, his gaze found mine again, apologizing again, but al I could do was stare. She pulled away, grinning. "Harry said you'd be up here," she giggled, smiling at him. "Hi," she added to me. "I'm Lavender—"

"I know." I finally found my voice. "We went to school together for seven years, Lavender."

She laughed, a tinkling, obnoxious sound.

"She's my girlfriend," Ron said flatly.

And there was that God-awful laugh again. "Oh, you silly!" She turned to me and shook her head, like, _Can you believe him?_ No. No, I really couldn't. "Men, right? Fiancée," she corrected him, adorable enough to make me vomit.

And so the world stopped turning. "Congratulations," a voice that wasn't mine responded immediately responded, genuine as possible. I felt light-headed. "Wow, fiancée. Wow. That's great, Ron!"

Who was that? Certainly not me. I was screaming and crying and cursing. I was not smiling and grinning and congratulating.

"Isn't it?" she beamed.

"Yes, definitely." Who was this, congratulating them, acting like I was glad? "Well, I've got a lot of work, and I'm sure you two have plans, so…"

"Yes! Yes, we do," she responded, all smiles. "The Three Broomsticks, corner booth," she giggled. "Like old times."

I tasted bile. "Well! Good night!"

Lavender skipped to the door and waited expectantly for Ron. "You go ahead," he told her. "I've got some work questions. I'll be right there."

She nodded and left.

There was dead silence. I grabbed a stack of papers and began re-organizing them, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Hermione, I didn't—"

"Didn't what, Ron?" I finally looked up. "It's no big deal. I had an eyelash and you got rid of it for me. It's not a big deal."

"_Hermione—"_

"I think you should go, Ron," I snapped, losing my temper. "Your _fiancée_ will be expecting you."

I could feel him staring at me as I looked away, attending to the stack of papers. His footsteps echoed around the room as he walked to the door and opened it, standing there. I knew he was staring at me, and whether he was waiting for me say something, or trying to say something to me, I would never know. All I knew is that eventually, he slipped out and let it slam shut behind him.

And then I was alone in a vast room I had no business being in, free to cry, free to scream, free to break down and lose it.

And instead, there was knock on my door, and my owl landed with a message from the Minister of Magic, and one of the portraits returned from his Ministry portrait with news from the Undersecretary.

I stood and smoothed my shirt down to look presentable, allowed myself one single deep breath, and pulled the door open. My night had only just begun.

**. . .**

**Maddy POV**

"Um, hey," I said, hoping to get past the awkwardness. Harry looked at me and his lips twitched.

"Hey, Maddy," he said. "I like that shirt on you. Much better look for you than—"

"Shut up," I cut him off with a grin.

He put his hands up in defense, palms facing me, his eyes playful, and I couldn't help but grinning. "Ceasing and desisting with the naked shower jokes," he laughed, and I stuck out my tongue at him like a two-year-old.

"Shower sex?" Ron asked, arriving at the table with his eyebrows raised and a smirk playing across his face. "Sounds… interesting. I always knew there was some sexual tension there." He glanced at me and quickly looked away, avoiding me as usual. I looked down, watching as Harry glowered at Ron. Ron simply raised his shoulders in a half apologetic shrug, and took his seat beside Harry.

Interesting.

The Great Hall was full for dinner that evening, and I was surprised that I actually felt comfortable enough to joke around with Harry after that shower incident, and even more surprised that _Harry _was actually speaking to _me_.

We were just waiting for Jonathon Rogers, Selena Decora—the Muggle Studies teacher—and Hermione to enter, and we would begin dinner. I checked my watch and glanced at the doors. Selena and Jonathon were usually late—they seemed to consider themselves above joining everyone else for dinner—but Hermione was always on time, if not early, for all the meals, especially supper.

Normally, I would have leaned over to Ron or Luna or even Neville and just asked why she was running late, but none of them were still really speaking to me, besides a few passing words or when I spoke to them, wishing them 'good morning' or 'have a nice night.'

Before this, I wouldn't have pegged Luna for a 'stand by your man' type, but obviously she was. Neville had sided with Rona and Hermione, Luna had followed him, and they had obviously gone with the alienation route. Why wouldn't they? They'd barely known me at all, I was suspicious to say the least, and they trusted each other with anything.

I was nobody, nothing.

They were everything to each other.

The math was simple.

And it wasn't as if I should really care why Hermione was late to dinner, of all things_. I mean, honestly, so the girl forgets to check her watch. Jesus. It's not a big deal,_ I reminded myself. _She hates you._

And that's when Harry leaned back, checked is battered old watch, and looked at Ron. "Since when is 'Mione late to anything? Let alone meals _she's_ supposed to begin?"

I pretended to be interested in examining my nails as Ron turned bright red and swallowed thickly. "Uh, I dunno," he muttered suddenly becoming absorbed in Luna and Neville's conversation about the Mandrakes.

"C'mon, Ron." Harry nodded at the door. "She's even later than Jon and Selena."

I followed is gaze to the doors as Jonathon slipped in. I narrowed my eyes, noticing that his buttons were done wrong.

Jonathon was meticulous in his appearance. There was no way he'd walked around like that all day, I knew. And then Selena entered, her skirt backwards. Jonathon turned to her, obviously feigning surprise as he gave her a quick up-and-down. She grinned back and they bean walking down the aisle. I hid a grin, standing up as they joined us.

"Did you have a nice day, Jonathon?" I asked with a grin worthy of the Cheshire cat. "Selena, how about you?" Before she could answer, I continued brightly, "You know, I just love_, _love_, love _your skirt! Actually…" I paused, cocking my head to the side faux-curiously, "is it supposed to be _worn_ that way? I think—I think you have it backwards, Selena." I grinned just slightly at her, letting her know I was suspected. "And Jonathon—I can call you Jon, can't I? Your buttons are done wrong, _Jon_."

I winked and turned away. "I'm sure it was just a simple mistake, huh? Have a nice dinner."

They exchanged panicked looks and hurried to their designated seats—next to each other. I grinned to myself. _How could I have missed it?_ I wondered, trying not to laugh.

"The kids are really hungry," Luna noted calmly. "We should start the dinner, even without Hermione."

Ron nodded. "Uh, Harry? You're kind of the guy right underneath her on the power tree, so, uh, would you like to do the honors?" He jerked his head to Hermione's chair, and Harry rolled his eyes.

He stood up. "Let's eat, everybody," he called awkwardly, and they all gratefully helped themselves to all the food.

**. . .**

**Harry POV**

"Hermione?" I called, entering her office and shutting the door quietly.

There was a scrambling sound and then a quiet sniffle before a call of, "Harry? That you?"

"Yeah, Hermione, it's me." I walked forward a little and saw her, standing by her desk, looking as small and lost and confused as I had ever seen her. "'Mione, what's wrong?" I asked, trying to be gentle. "What happened?"

"It's—," she cut her self off. "It's—it's—"

I hurried towards her, reaching for the papers on her desk, fearing the worst. "You've been fired, haven't you? Oh God, Hermione, I'm so sorry."

"I haven't been fired!" she cried indignantly. "What made you think that?"

I opened my mouth to answer her, but I really didn't know how to answer. All I could think was, _What would make Hermione this upset that she's crying, other than being fired?_ Immediately, the answer that came to mind was, _Getting an E._ But we weren't students at Hogwarts anymore, and Hermione was no longer given report cards. Hers came in the form a big, fat, well-deserved paycheck. But she was young, just like me, and though she would have done anything to prevent it, she still made a lot of mistakes. After all, she'd only been headmistress for one year. She didn't know everything yet, though she would like to.

And then it hit me. I had seen Hermione like this once, only once: when Ron walked out on us.

"Oh, 'Mione, what did he do?" I asked softly, pulling her into a hug. Ron could insensitive, especially to Hermione, and it must have been really bad this time.

She rested her head on my shoulder, letting a out a sob. "When did he tell you?" she breathed.

"Tell me what?"

"That—that he's fucking engaged!" she said, pulling back. "You didn't know?"

"Of course I didn't know," I replied. "Who the hell is he marrying? I didn't even know he was dating anyone!"

This brought on a whole new round of crying. "Oh, my God, Harry, what's happening to us? How can this have happened to us?"

I stared, unsure how to help, what to say… what to even think.

"We used to be so close… we told each other everything, helped each other with everything, shared everything…. We don't know anything about each other, Harry! Ron and I have no clue what happened with you and Maddy, how you found the Horcruxes, any of that. You and I didn't have any idea that he was even dating anyone, much less Lavender fucking Brown! We've known her since we were eleven, Harry, she went to Hogwarts with us!"

"Hermione—"

"And now he's engaged! Luna and Neville hardly speak to us! We don't go out and do anything, the last time we attempted to make plans for all of us was Halloween! Do you know where Ginny is now?"

"Uh… no?" I responded, bewildered by her rant. "At home, I expect?"

"Yes! Exactly! She just got home this morning from _France!_ Fucking France! How the hell didn't we know she and Dean were in France?"

Then I started to panic. "On a _honeymoon?"_

She shook her head and forced a bitter laugh. "Not that we'd have known if it was. They just took a month-long vacation at the drop of a hat. No good reason—they just felt like it. They'll be getting married soon, too, if they can stand living in the same hotel room together for four whole weeks!"

She went on, ranting about losing track of everyone and not having anything o do with each other anymore, and complaining that the only thing we had in common anymore was that we worked together. But I saw past that.

"Lavender Brown, Hermione? Is that what's bothering you? His fling turned into something more?"

She turned and looked at me, her tirade dying on her lips. "I convinced myself she didn't matter. That he didn't care about her, that time they—they…. I was wrong, Harry. He's going to marry her."

I really couldn't understand why this was affecting her so much. Lavender was a clingy, annoying, desperate bitch, but if Ron loved her, then what was I supposed to do? And why would Hermione care this much? We should be happy for him.

Except…

Oh. Oh, poor Hermione.

"Still?" I asked, my voice deadly quiet. "After all this time, Hermione?"

"Always," she replied, just as hushed, just as somber. "Always."

I wanted to be exasperated. I wanted to be annoyed, and, most of all, I wanted to tell her to suck it up and get over it, get over him. But now I understood. Now I got it.

"Me too, 'Mione," I whispered, pulling her close. "Me too."

**All righty! Sorry for typos, I'm sure there were tons, knowing me and my carelessness. I do proofread and redo stuff, but honestly, it's like suuuuper duper late here on the East Coast and I just want to sleep. Sorry, guys, that comes first. Well, as usual please please please review! Let's go for another five, kay? Love ya! Hope you liked it!**


	6. Pretending

**Hey all! So it's been a long time since I updated. Sorry about that! I got a great review from Kimberly L. Williams, adn she reminded me that maybe there are readers - people who might just be interested in my nonsense - who want more! Crazy thought, huh? Anyway, here is is in all it's glory - sorry for the wait - hope you enjoy it - don't forget to review! **

_Will we ever say the words we're feeling?_

_Cause if you feel the same, how am I supposed to know?_

_Reach down underneath and tear down all the walls?_

_Will we ever have a happy ending?_

_Or will we forever be only pretending?_

"Look."

I wasn't sure exactly how this had happened. Everything was kind of fuzzy because of my pounding heart, but I pushed that all aside and face the task at hand. I was standing the in Headmistress's office, and I looked a mess. My hair was tossed into some braid/bun contraption, and my clothes were disheveled and wrinkly.

"Either you trust me or you don't. Either we're going to work here—together—happily, and you'll be a good boss and I'll be a good teacher, or I'll leave, and you'll never have to deal with me again."

That didn't come out exactly right. In my head, I told her that she would just have to suck it up and deal with it, because she'd hired me and I wasn't going anywhere, like it or not.

Oops.

Hermione considered me, sitting at her desk and looking very poised. "I'm sorry," she said finally, picking up some paper and shuffling them around. She picked up a quill and began to write, not meeting my gaze.

Shit. She was letting me go.

What was wrong with me?

"I shouldn't have done… what I did… on Halloween. It was unkind and uncalled for, but sometimes that's how I have to be. I'm protecting my students and I will never apologize for trying to do what's best for them. However, I never meant to hurt you."

I felt a million light-years younger than her as she looked back at me and continued, "I would never fire you, or let you go. From what I hear, your third and first year classes are challenging the kids in a way I failed to."

"Oh," I managed. Pulling it together, though, and I added, "Yes. Well. I was actually offended about that night, but if you're willing to let it all go, so am I."

Hermione smiled. "You're a good teacher, Maddy. And you can have my second year lesson plans, if you want."

My mouth opened and then closed. I reddened, trying to think back on anything I'd told her that might have hinted at my problems…

"I mean, what _are_ you supposed to teacher second years, anyway?" she continued, winking at me. "They've learned the basics and they're not ready for the real stuff. I had a problem with it, too." Handing me two thick books that were probably filled with everything I needed to know, she added, "Now go clean yourself up. It may be Saturday, but students still have to respect you. They tend to do that more when you don't look like a drunken mess."

"I'm not drunk," I objected, and she laughed.

"I would hope not! Truthfully, though, I'm sorry. Hopefully we can put this behind us and move on, no?"

"No," I agreed, then frowned. "No. I mean yes. Yes, we can. Okay. Bye." I turned and quickly left the office, shaking my head. _Way to convince her of your sobriety, Mads. Way to go._

I was not drunk. There was no way I'd have gone over there if I was. I had, however, rolled right out of bed, and marched into her office without some much as glancing in a mirror. If I had, I probably would have lost my backbone the minute I stepped up to it.

I hurried back to my bedroom and fixed my hair, threw on something a little more presentable, and left again. If I were responsible, I probably would have reviewed Hermione's lesson plans. But I wasn't. And it was a Saturday. And I wanted to do something fun!

There was only one, teensy, tiny problem.

I had no friends. Not one person could I call up and asked to do something with me.

That was absolutely no problem. I never had any problem making friends! Well, I never had much of an opportunity when I was younger, but my very best friend in the whole world had been my maid until I fearlessly befriended her and she became a lot more than that. I dashed down the hallways in search of some teachers about my age to talk to.

Well, there were the older teachers, who hated all young teachers for, well, being young. And running the school when they were oh-so-clearly more experienced and well suited for the job.

No, thank you.

Then there were middle-aged teachers, who seemed just as boring as the older ones. They were like strangers on the street: okay to smile at as you passed them, but you wouldn't want to strike up a conversation. They'd probably just talked about their cats.

Okay. That was unkind. _Not cool, Mads,_ I scolded myself.

Next, the teachers in their twenties. I put on a big smile, even though they were all older than me. They seemed friendly enough. I walked over and said brightly, "Hi! I'm Maddy Johnson, and I teach DADA. I haven't really had a chance to introduce myself yet, so I thought I'd come and say hi."

There was dead silence.

"So, uh… hi!" I continued, hoping for a laugh.

Instead, one of them turned to me and said, "I'm Erik. Nice to meet you."

I nodded. "You too. So what are you all up to?" I added after a beat.

"Working on our classes. Very busy week ahead of us! With the third years gone for their Hogsmeade field trip and all," a peppy looking blonde replied.

"Hogsmeade?" I brightened. "Oh, how fun! What day is it?"

"Wednesday," an African American man told me with a smile. "They still need chaperones, and because I have a test to give the fifth years, I can't go. It's a shame. I've gone for three year in a row, every time."

"Oh, how many chaperones are needed?" I asked, just being polite. Really, the conversation was starting to bore me. I hated small talk. I always had, but I had to start somewhere. I couldn't just walk up to someone and decide we were besties all of the sudden. It took time. And unfortunately, patience—something I lacked.

"Oh, are you interested?" the blonde asked excitedly. She began to tap her quill on the table. Loudly.

I paused, confused about how we'd gone from how many chaperones were going from me signing up. I was still trying to work out if I'd missed anything and had zoned out, being incredibly rude, when she continued her monologue brightly. It went a little something like this:

"Oh, it's so fun! You should definitely do it. Someone needs to experience it at least once. I'm telling you, you'll have such a great time. When I went—wow, so long ago! —I had a blast. Believe me, you won't regret it." And she continued.

Midway through this little chat, I drifted off mentally, resisting the urge to check my watch. When the speaking came suddenly, thankfully, to a halt, I looked back up at her expectant face and noticed happily that the tapping had stopped. Her eyebrow cocked, she smiled at me like she was waiting for an answer.

In my experience, it was always better to agree with the person you'd forgotten to listen to while they were speaking to you. And the more enthusiastic you sounded, the better.

I smiled agreeably and replied, "Oh, absolutely," my teeth glinting as I grinned back.

"Excellent! I'll put you down." She pulled out a sheet of paper and scrolled out, _Maddy Johnson, DADA. _"How great! You'll have a great time."

_Great. _How many times had she said great now, in the short moment of interaction we'd had? _Way too many._

"Wait, what? Oh, no, that's not what I meant." I smiled. "See—"

"Oh, you're new," she cut across me, her friendly manner gone. Now that she'd caught me, she wasn't about to let me go. "You're worried you won't know anyone going! Well, you know us—Erik, Georgina, Dion—but none of us will be going. Hmm. Who to ask, who to ask…"

She scanned the room, trying to appear casual. Her gaze was far too intense to be anything of the sort. "Someone your age, of course," she said as Jon and Selena entered together.

"Oh, perfect! Harry! Oh, _Harry!"_

"What?" I blurted, whipping around to see Harry, standing in the DADA section, browsing through some books. "Oh, no, Georgia—Georgina, sorry, you don't understand—Harry wouldn't want to come anyway!"

"Oh, hush," she told me, somewhat severely.

I did hush, rather petulantly.

He was walking over now, the look on his face pleasant. "Hey Erik, Dion. Georgina, how are you?" He didn't even spare me a glance.

Georgina took no notice. She was far too engrossed in her pursuit of chaperones. I noticed Dion as a smile played around his lips. It dawned on me that he knew exactly what she was doing, and maybe she did too. My extreme discomfort meant little to her. For some reason, the woman really wanted some chaperones. "Oh, Harry, you might be interested in chaperoning Hogsmeade, wouldn't you?" She batted her eyelashes, and Erik grinned, rolling his eyes.

Harry smiled back, looking at me like _Can you believe her?_

"Well, sure," he replied pleasantly. "Who else is signed up?"

"Oh, no one," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Just Molly, actually."

I gaped at her, not even bothering to hide my annoyance. _No one? Just Molly? _As if she hadn't spent the past couple minutes roping me into going along? Yeah. Right.

"Will you be going?" Harry asked, and she blushed.

"Oh, no, not me! Unfortunately, I'm busy with some tests. First years, you know."

He nodded, smothering a laugh she twisted a lock of hair around her fingers, flirting ineptly. "Well, you go ahead and sign me up. I'd love to keep Molly company. And why not write down Ron and Hermione too?" he continued. "I'm sure they'd love to." He nodded as if reassuring himself.

Georgina faltered. "The Headmistress? Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Well, there you have it," she said, looking back at me. "Now you have three people your age to be with you! Imagine that." Still smiling like she'd done me a favor.

Harry turned around and his grin faded slightly. "Maddy's going?" he asked, his voice low.

_How could she be so oblivious? _I wondered in amazement, as Harry seemed to struggle with his emotions. Finally he forced a smile and a nod before strolling away quickly. Without even bidding the trio goodbye, I followed him out of the library and down the hallway.

"Wait! Harry, wait a second!"

He paused, waiting fro me to catch up, and then kept waking.

"Sorry about that." I wanted to let him know that that had been in no way my idea. "That blonde girl just totally roped me into it. I mean, one second she's going on and on about how fun the trip is, and then I zone out, and suddenly she's asking if I want to chaperone and not taking no for an answer!" I glanced at his face. "World-class con woman right there," I added in an effort to make him laugh.

It backfired. The emotions he'd looked to be struggling with vanished and he rolled his eyes, turning to face me. "Oh please, Maddy. As if you should be the one talking right now. Takes one to know one." And he blew right by me, jogging up the steps and disappearing.

I followed him easily, darting up the stairway and following him down the corridor. "Hey! Potter!" I shouted, and he turned around again, sighing.

"What?"

I laid a hand against his chest and pushed him back, away from me. "Listen, I'm sorry we have to chaperone together, but you've got your two best friends there, so it's not like you'll be talking to me anyway. I'm sure I'll be all alone with Molly, whoever the hell that is."

"Maddy, just—"

"At least I'm trying to play nice, okay? You might as well make an effort! As if this whole thing isn't hard enough without you being such an asshole to me."

I turned and made to walk away, still fuming, and he caught my shoulder and wheeled me back around to face him. "I'm not trying to make this harder on you, okay?"

His eyes were soft, but his voice was so patronizing that I found it hard to believe he actually felt any sorrow.

"Well, you're doing one hell of a job!" I snapped.

The planes of his face were filled with pain and some kind of struggle, but I couldn't care less.

"It's hard for me too, all right, you being here and seeing you after two whole years. And now suddenly you're back and part of my life and yeah, maybe I wanted that fro a long time, but it's _weird_, and it takes some getting used to! I'm not sure how I'm supposed to act around you anymore, Mads!"

**Harry POV**

Her face wrinkled with confusion as she processed this, and for a moment I thought I'd calmed her down. True to form, she fired right back up again within seconds.

"How you're _supposed_ to act, Harry? How about you just act how you feel? What is your _problem?_ I don't understand you—everything you do has to be thought over times one hundred and two! Don't think, don't overcomplicate every single thing you do for once! Just feel and then act on it, all right?"

I opened my mouth to respond to her rant, but she continued, and I shut myself up.

"Is there some kind of fucking handbook I'm unaware of? Can you lend it to me so we can all act like Harry Perfect Potter for the rest of our lives?"

"Get over yourself, Maddy. You're not all you pretend to be either."

The words had the effect I wanted. Her face contorted with anger—an expression I was familiar with by now—and she spat, "Good! Thank fucking God I don't have to keep up the façade even to convince myself, pretend to myself, like you!"

"Who's pretending?" I asked her, watching her roll her eyes in disbelief.

"You are! Just about everyone you meet thinks you're the most perfect person they've ever met, but you and I know different, don't we? Always the actor, aren't you, Harry?"

"At least I'm not a disappointment to everyone around me," I countered. "Me, obviously—you didn't turn out to be anything like the girl I thought I knew so well. Hermione. You think she's happy she hired you? Think again. Any of the people you were trying to befriend here when they learned what you really are?"

As if this whole conversation wasn't hurtful enough, I took it one step further, crossing the line that I knew there was no backing off. As if I cared. With Maddy, there seemed to be no lines. They were all blurred, my breaking points and the lines I would cross to hurt somebody, to get what I wanted, to do what I pleased. That's why it didn't seem so horrible until the words were out.

"And your own father, too, don't forget him. No matter how heinous he was, you betrayed him like you betrayed everyone else. And we both know you're just like him. If you won't stick with the person you model yourself after, who are you, really?"

The slap came hard and fast, just like the words that followed.

"if you _ever_ compare me to him, ever—d'you understand me?—you will regret it like you can't believe," she swore.

I back off her and rolled my eyes, pretending I didn't realize how wrong my words were. "Get over it, Maddy. We know it's true."

**Maddy POV**

I shouldn't be surprised.

I shouldn't be surprised.

I shouldn't be surprised.

I should be used to this by now.

I should know better by now.

None of it was new to me; no part of that conversation was out of place or new or different. I was used to that kind of taunting, to the fighting. By now I would have to be.

I should have known better.

The words repeated themselves in my mind over and over, until they stopped. I'm not sure why. Maybe my body sensed that I was at a breaking point, that I couldn't take it anymore, and it stopped. A gift to me: a moment of peace inside the turmoil that was my emotions. Maybe the message finally got through to me, to my heart and to my brain, and I would no longer feel numb or shocked when I was hurt. Or maybe I was simply too exhausted to even comprehend the message flowing through my body.

I do know better.

_I know better than this._

I know what I'm doing when it comes to pain. I'm not new to the subject or the feeling, and I know all different kinds of pain, how to inflict it, how to deflect it... I know things that would make other people's skin crawl. I know specifically what kinds of pain breaks what kinds of people and how far a torturer can go until they reach their victim's breaking point. I know which types of pain and torture are most effective in different situations.

Maybe these kinds of things are not right for a young girl to know, but I'm not just any girl.

For days I've been trying to push the thought of my father, Lord Voldemort, returning, out of my brian.

_Out of sight, out of mind._

But the memories overwhelmed me again. And I couldn't help but feel as if that was the most powerful kind of pain: knowing you had trusted someone with the deepest, darkest, tenderest parts of your soul and watching them break that trust like it was nothing.

Watching someone take something that was everything to me and discard it like it was nothing... that was my breaking point.

It had happened to many times to count.

_"How could you? How could you!" I hurled the words at had and waited for some sign of weakness or pain or sorrow, even compassion. I saw none. "You... you... you've led me to believe it was _my _fault!"_

_"You believed what you wanted. I let you."_

_"How can you stand there and pretend? How can a human being feel nothing, no remorse, for what you've done to me? You stole my mother! My childhood! You took the only chance I had at happiness and crushed it, like it meant nothing to you! Is that really who you are?"_

_Bellatrix stared at me with empty eyes and I realized for the first time that though she had been a mother figure to me for my whole life, she was nothing of the sort. She looked out for number one first and foremost, and let others come second, if she had a spare moment. She was nothing but a servant to my father, and she had probably resented the tiresome task of looking after me all this time. I felt sick._

_As I began to turn away, my stomach heaving and my eyes going moist, and tiny choking sound escaped her, adn I met her gaze defiantly. I'd be damned if I let her have even the tiniest power over me._

_"I never meant to hurt you. When you were born..." Bella swallowed. "When you were born, I didn't love you. I loved your father, as strange as that may seem. I've always loved him. I wanted to be with him. When you're in love... maybe you'll understand the height of my emotions, when you were born."_

_I panicked slightly. Did I really want to hear this?_

_It didn't matter if I wanted to or not. Bella kept talking, and I had to wonder if this confession was for her sake or mine._

_"I convinced him to kill your mother. She was no longer of any use to us. Why were we keeping her?" Bella paused, her lip trembling. "I... was successful. He murdered her. When you were old enough to wonder about her, I told the Dark Lord. He instructed me to lie at all costs." She bowed her head in shame. "You'll never be able to forgive me. And I don't want you to."_

_She met my eyes. "I lied, Maddy, about everything. I loved you like a daughter. I couldn't bare for you to be hurt. I couldn't bear that I had taken her away from you."_

_"You're lying," I hissed, stepping closer. "You never felt even the least bit sorry, did you? Not once did you think that maybe I was unhappy with the life I had! Never able to step outside, no friends, arranged marriage at seventeen? No mother, no father, nothing but a tower and a bed?"_

_I moved closer, understanding her more and more with each step. _

_"You had a mother. You always had me, always. And you always will." her voice wavered and she bowed her head. "The difference now is that maybe you'll no longer want me. I completely understand, if that's the case..."_

_My throat closed for a moment. Words failed me. I tasted bile and swallowed it back down. I would never let her see me again, weak and vulnerable like this. She didn't deserve to. "If that's the case?" I shreiked, barely understanding the words leaving my lips. "Maybe I'll no longer want you? Are you fucking crazy? Of course I don't _want_ you, you psycho bitch!"_

_Her eyes widened for a moment before she carefully controlled her emotions and kept her gaze firmly on the floor._

_"I don't ever want to have to look at you again. Ever!"_

_Her mouth opened and closed, opened and closed, trying to make words come out. I didn't know what she was trying to say... an apology? Defending herself? Simply a goodbye? I didn't care enough to find out. Anything and everything that came out of had mouth was lies._

_"You hated her! You envied her... because he actually loved her."_

_Bella shook his head minutely. "He never loved her. He had never loved anything. That damn snake is as close as it ever got." A sob burst forth. "I'm leaving now." She leaned forward, took my hand._

_I wrenched it away. "Go. Don't you ever try to come back, d'you hear me? I'll kill you where you stand if you do."_

I truly did have enough adrenaline and anger pumping through my veins to do just that at the moment, but as she stepped out of my tower door and walked away from me, I knew that I was probably nothing like my mother in spirit. My own spirit was much too broken to be anything like the woman I loved so much. I looked like her, though, and when I looked in the mirror, I saw broken, jagged pieces of her staring back at me. I saw her smile and her laugh, full of life. I saw the way her eyes glinted and flashed when she was angry or animated. I liked ot believe that maybe she liked that I looked like her.

Mostly, I saw my father looking back at me. Bitter, unemotional, alone. Angry at the world and everything in it. If I looked hard enough, I could pretend that there was a bit of the woman I knew so little about, but deep within myself, I knew better.

Always pretending, I hid my face my the mirror, knowing what I would see, distorted and ugly, gazing back.

Always pretending, I opened Hermione's lesson plans and poured over them until I had the next three weeks of class planned out form beginning to end.

I pretended not to hear when someone knocked on my door, and when dinner and lunch rolled around, I stayed inside.

Always pretending.

**Well, there you are. I'm going on a camping trip tomorrow, so when I get back I hope to see some reviews...? I'll leave that up to you!**


	7. Good Morning

**So it turns out, when you get back into a story, you get _really_ into it. I was really excited to write this chapter, and when I put pen to paper - fingers to keyboard? - I realized I had no idea what I was writing about yet. I was simply trying to pound out another chapter, but I really like where this one took me! I think you'll be surprised and hopefully happy to see a new and familiar character introduced. Hope you all enjoy this and feel the urge to shoot out some reviews!**

_Then you decide to take a walk by the old school _  
_Nothing has changed, it's still the same _  
_I've got nothing to say but it's O.K. _  
_Good morning, good morning _

I got out of bed. I was ready. He would not take me by surprise, not this time. I would never let him have the satisfaction of breaking me, not again.

Never. Never.

I'm Madeleine fucking Johnson. I ran away from home with no knowledge of the world around me. I survived. I was tortured as a child almost routinely by the Darkest wizard of all time as a child and teenager. I was raised by his most faithful Death Eater and had one friend: asshole and eternal bully, Draco Malfoy, as anyone who had known him would tell me, again and again. I survived. I defied said Dark wizard and snuck out of the tower I had been confined to. I survived. I became a powerful witch from the time I was five years old, and I survived anything anyone ever threw my way. By the time I was ten, I knew more than most sixth years ever would, even some seventh years.

I could handle one fucking douche bag and a couple of kids who just wanted me to teach them about dementors and bogarts.

Breakfast should not be a problem for me. As I stood in the mirror and decided what to wear, I reminded myself of this time and time again. When I brushed out my long blonde hair, I reminded myself of this. When I stepped out the door in my heels, I reminded myself of this and held my head high. I walked to the Great Hall with confidence and sat next to him in silence, easily ignoring his uncomfortable posture. I would show him exactly what he was missing.

I didn't need this. I didn't need to take whatever he threw my way. Therefore, I sure as hell wasn't going to.

"Good morning," I greeted Neville and Luna as they approached the table holding hands and they smiled back easily.

It didn't matter if they were ignoring me. I could still be pleasant. If they were going to judge me for my family, why shouldn't I show them just how wrong they were? They would so in time that they had judged my wrongly, and they would come to regret it.

I smiled at Ron and Hermione as they came to the table and they both grinned back. I was making progress, all in one day.

"Hey, Maddy," Harry said under his breath. "Maybe we could talk later?"

My voice was perfectly pleasant. I betrayed no emotion. "No, thanks." I helped myself casually to some butter for my bread.

Cool as a fucking cucumber.

_Take that, bitch!_ Inside, I screamed triumphantly, smirking to myself.

He paused, trying to find the right words. "I just… think that maybe I could let you know… about yesterday… I just mean, in private, maybe I could explain and we could work a couple things out."

He fully expected me to agree. He knew me well. Or, so he thought.

I turned and glanced at Harry, my lips twitching. "I honestly have nothing more to say. And after what came out of your mouth the other night, I can't imagine what else you could possibly have to insult me with. I think you pretty much hit the jackpot. Just for the future, if you're planning on trying to hurt me, my father is almost always the way to go. But if you really want to leave a mark, my mother—she's dead, you've never heard of her—pretty much controls every single one of my emotions. Just for your convenience."

I shrugged, casting him a sidelong look of disgust. "I have no doubt you'll be using that information for your next chance t make me miserable, and I just want you to be prepared.

He looked pained. "I don't want to insult you again."

"Good! Glad we've cleared that up! Now I can sleep in peace. Now I can die happy, Harry! Congrats, you've made my life!"

I turned away, ignoring his attempts are furthering an apology I had no interest in. I smiled at Hermione, who had done her hair differently today. She left a few strands down, dangling around her face, accenting her cheekbones and making her appear much more welcoming and soft. It was a million times better than the usual severe bun she usually wore. And I noticed Ron noticing it the moment they walked in.

"You look great today," I noted to her. "I like the hair."

Luna, apparently with the ears of a bat, leaned over from her end of the table and added, "I completely agree, Hermione," she said sincerely, her voice so soft and earnest that I had to grin. Luna had a soothing way about her I adored.

"I think Ron does too," I murmured to her, making sure no one could hear, and she stiffened, casting me a look that quite clearly read, _Keep it professional, please._

I obeyed easily, and, wanting to remain on her good side, turning to Ron and striking up a conversation about the Gryffindor Quidditch team, about which he was particularly animated.

Breakfast ended quickly, and I returned to my second year classes with a new confidence, focusing on legends that had to do with the Dark Arts.

When they filed in, I greeted them with confidence and happiness, smiling convincingly as I chirped, "Good morning, class!" As if it actually was.

I outlined the lesson plan for the day and began teaching almost immediately, amazed by the way time flew when I honestly felt like they were teaching me something.

I taught them simple spells to reveal any particularly Dark enchantments and especially powerful magic, which would work on most places and objects, unless they were enchanted to do otherwise. I was in the middle of teaching about The Founders of Hogwarts when a voice said, "And Godric Gryffindor, he said he wanted the brave ones, if I remember correctly."

I turned automatically, my eyes narrowing. "No fair interrupting me in front of the kids," I told him severely, holding back the tongue-lashing I was longing to give the man standing in the doorway.

My shock at seeing him there, rudely interrupting my class, was the only thing that stopped me from instinctively screaming at him.

He shrugged, his movements too full of confidence and grace to be truly softly, and I hated him for that easy conviction that I would just automatically forgive the words he had spat at me not so long ago.

"I'm teaching," I snapped, waving my hands at the classroom as the twelve-year-olds watched, transfixed by the energy charging the room. "It's kind of an important lesson."

He paid me no heed, walking into the room, eyes sparkling with amusement as he turned to the kids and told them in the way that teachers always do, "Ravenclaw preferred the intelligent ones, and Slytherin only wished for the truly ambitious. Helena Hufflepuff, however, accepted everyone who was unwelcome in the other Houses."

Before he could go any further, I hissed, "Actually, she accepted the purest of heart. No wonder you're not a Hufflepuff."

He shrugged again, still unbothered by my tone and hostile posture. "Class is over, guys. Five minutes to the bell! Guess you'll be early to your next class."

My students' heads swiveled over to me, making it obvious that they were going to obey me, their teacher, not him. I was grateful for the tiniest bit of control over the situation that I could grasp. Never breaking his gaze, I nodded my head, saying slowly, "Go ahead. See you all tomorrow, bright and early."

He leaned back onto my desk, looking at me with pleading eyes. "Personally, I always thought Salazar made the best choice. Ambition overrides everything else."

My best friend, Draco Malfoy, got up of my desk and pulled me into a hug. "Forgive me, Mads? Pretty please?"

I pushed him off me, hands on my hips and shook my head, my lips pushed together, whether to keep myself from screaming or smiling, I didn't know. All I knew was that I refused to give him the satisfaction of either, so I simply remained silent, looking at him, a face I hadn't seen in so long. I took in his lanky but well-built body. He'd grown tall and looked tired, so much more tired from when I'd last seen him. There were lines on his forehead when he frowned at my refusal to speak, but he was still handsome, his blonde hair messy and shaggy. Somehow, it still worked for him. The twelve-year-old girls must still be giggling somehow in the school at the sight of him. I could just imagine the rumors that would start spreading. Soon I would have to go speak with Hermione and set things straight.

No, I had no long lost lovers visiting me randomly, I would tell her. No, I did not dismiss class early to… reconnect... biblically.

I still didn't say anything. His clothes were dirty and he smelled just a little bit. He needed a shower but no desperately, and I briefly wondered where he'd been lately, and who with. I hoped desperately the answer would not be Crabbe and Goyle.

Somehow, I think I knew it wouldn't be. I wondered how he'd gotten here, how he knew where I'd be.

Then I remembered Sara. And then I remembered I really, _really, _wanted to kill her.

"Draco," I finally said.

"You haven't gone mute. Good." He seemed actually relieved.

I frowned at the joke and shook my head minutely. "I don't… what are you even doing here? What made you decide that suddenly here and now is the right time to come say sorry?"

He opened his mouth to speak, and I held up my head.

"By the way, you have yet to do that."

"Do what?"

"Apologize." I watched his eyes carefully, guarded and filled of caution, narrow. His lips transformed into something akin to a smirk, but not exactly. It wasn't quite so smug as I was used to. It was more… reminiscent. Melancholy. Only this time, I wasn't going to give in to what he wanted. An easy apology, a simple make up. That wasn't going to happen, though, not this time. I wanted a real one, the real words said and meant, and I wasn't going to settle, even if I did love him.

"I know, I know. You don't _do_ apologies." I turned my back on him, hiding the pain in my face. He was no different. Our friendship would be no different. I had no room for him in my life anymore, and I wasn't going to make an effort for someone who had never and would never make an effort for me. That was all there was to it. "There's the door. You're so good at walking out. You should be an expert."

There was a pause, in which I felt his hand on my shoulder, warm and comforting. I shrugged it away.

"I… am sorry."

I turned around, raising my eyebrows. "You're sorry? For what, exactly?"

A brief look of annoyance flashed across his face, followed quickly by understanding. "I'm sorry for lying to you, about…. Well, about everything. I'm sorry for telling Potter the truth before you had the chance to. I'm sorry I was too weak to keep the truth from your father." A rare look of pain flitted through his eyes before passing on. "I'm sorry I left when you needed me most, and I'm sorry I never thought to come back and be with you until now."

That was, by any person's standards, a lot to take it. It all had happened over the course of a lifelong friendship, and most importantly, it had all occurred within the last two years. I paused. "I'll never understand a lot about that time. I think I've accepted that. But… why didn't you? Ever come find me, until now?"

Draco paused, appraising me, before replying. "It honestly never once occurred to me that you would ever want me to."

"I didn't," I said slowly, "at first. At first I just wanted to be angry, and I was. I was so full of anger and hatred all the time, I didn't know what to do with myself. I dealt. But I came to miss you, and still… you never even wrote a letter?"

"I wrote dozens."

I paused, and turned to shuffled the papers we'd worked on today in class. I organized them together and set them in a neat pile on my desk, next to the papers I would hand out to the other second years. I didn't want to know if someone had been stealing my letters from my very best friend all these years. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go destroy someone else.

"I never sent them," he admitted carefully.

I whipped around. "Why the hell not?"

"They sucked," Draco said honestly, a smile playing around his lips. When he saw my expression, he added, "No, really! What was I supposed to say? I honestly had no idea what I was going to write in a letter, so I stopped trying eventually. And then…. Mads, you know I missed you like hell. Every day. But I didn't think you wanted to see me ever again, and Sara said I should give you time… to start over, and I wasn't sure how much time was enough, and then I just…"

I shook my head at his ramblings, confused beyond belief. Draco had missed me.

Draco had wanted to see me and had tried to write to me and he was here now, trying to make things better, trying to make things okay again. And it was up to me to let him or to send him away.

Responsibility is a funny thing. It comes to every person with time, as they gain independence and grow up. Most people crave it. They want the responsibilities of everyday life, of taking care of themselves and being independent, not relying on anyone else to help them along or tell them what to do or how to do it. It was different with me; I preferred no responsibility when I was younger, which is when most people start to want it. I wanted to be told just what to do, how to do it, and when. I required no why, and I rarely received one. As a result, I grew to wonder about the world around me and found that I had denied myself of it so long that I knew nothing of it. I rebelled and found the independence refreshing. Addicted to the rush of it, I continued everyday to want more and more.

Now I would prefer to have as little as possible, with as much independence as possible. It's impossible, of course, but standing there, I had never wished more for someone to come along and take the weight off my shoulder, to hold the burden with me. But Draco was handing me his apology, all wrapped up beautifully and it fell on me once again to accept or decline. Of course I wanted him in my life.

But it wasn't quite that simple.

"I just got used to being without you. I'm not saying I liked it. Not at all. But I grew accustomed to being alone, and I just woke up and realized… it's been two years since I last saw you. And I knew that I had to find you. I called John, who told me where you were and warned me not to hurt you again." He smiled thinly. "I've done a great job in the past. I guess you're all a little wary of me."

I narrowed my eyes at me. "Don't play the pity card. I can't stand it."

Draco's old air was back now, seeping with overconfidence and boredom. He straightened up, the intense look in his eye gone, and replied mildly, "I came to see you and ask for your forgiveness. I have, and if you have nothing else to say, I guess I'll go."

"Oh, fine," I snapped, rolling my eyes. "Go on and make me feel like it's my fault, like I should be the one apologizing. Typical. And I thought you'd really grown up over the past two years!"

Draco turned and settled his glare on me. "You really think there's nothing you want to apologize for? Not one thing you felt you did wrong?"

"Of course I did things wrong, Draco, of course I did! But I never ruined your life in one go, now, did I?" I glared at him forcefully, waiting for him to contradict me. "I never crushed you the way you crushed me, and I'll be damned if you turned around and put this all on me!"

His voice became soft when he replied, "You never told me. About him."

I shook my head.

"We told each other everything."

"He was mine," I said, just as quickly. "My secret and my boyfriend. It had nothing to do with you, so I didn't tell you."

Draco shook his head. "I really am sorry. The fact that I'm here… that I just said those words… should prove to you that I'm sorry. I don't… I don't know, but you've always been my best friend, Mads, and I don't want to you lose you again. It sucked the first time around. The second time would be even worse, I know."

I rested my hands on my hips, knowing our whole friendship relied on this answer, and I wondered to myself if I really wanted to live the rest of my life without my best friend in the world. I had Sara, and John, and Hermione, Luna, Neville, and Ron, as soon as I made up with them… they would be enough, I was sure of it.

Brushing my hair out of my eyes, I shook my head. "You look good, Malfoy," I told him, laying on a hand on his shoulder.

"Back at you, Riddle," he shot back, his forehead creasing in confusion.

Was this a goodbye or my forgiveness? I could sense him wondering, and I myself was still unsure until the next sentences flew out of my mouth.

"I take it back," I smirked at him. "You look like shit, asshole. Go take a fucking shower. I've got a class to teach." I jerked my thumb at my bedroom, turning my back on him and letting him watch with a new bounce in is step into my room and turn on the shower.

"Good morning, class," I greeted them as they filed in, and I marveled at the fact that this time I said it, it really was a great day.

**So I have some questions for you all.**

**Number 1 - Who did you assume was interrupting Maddy's class?**

**Number 2 - Were you surprised to find out it was Draco?**

**Number 3 - Did you expect Maddy to accept his apology? **

**And last but not least, Number 4 - Are you expecting something fabulous soon for the Hogsmeade field trip? I know I am, and I still have yet to write it!**

**Answer them all in a review, please, I'd really love to hear from you all. Hope you liked it; I worked pretty hard! Hit me up.**


	8. Holding On

**So I got some reviews on how it makes no sense that Draco is suddenly in the story, where he was no place. And I got to thinking, you're totally right - I was actually going through something similar to what Maddy was, and I suppose I just related my situation to hers with Draco. I brought him back in for no reason, but rest assured, he won't make things overly screwed. Hopefully.**_  
_

_So how did we get so jaded?_

_Is it so complicated to not give up on me?_

_In the night there's a fire in my eyes_

_And this paradise has become a place we've come to cry_

**Harry POV**

I was imagining things. I had to be.

All I knew was that I had gone to Maddy's room to apologize her, and she was gone.

I decided to wait in her bedroom until she came back from wherever she was, and I had been there for about five minutes before I noticed the sounds coming form the bathroom. The shower was on. I assumed she would be out soon, and, having no desire for a repeat of the other day when I walked in on her naked, I stayed outside until she was done.

The water stopped, and I stood up and stood by the door, leaning against the frame to try to look casual. The door opened, and I remember that once again I would be seeing her in her towel. Still struggling to decide if I would like that too much or if I should just get out of there and come back later, the door opened.

I decided that I had waited for about half and hour and wasn't about to waste any more time.

"Hey, Mads," I said as she entered the room and I looked up at her. Then, "Holy shit!" I blurted, jerking up a hand instinctively to cover my eyes. "Put some damn clothes on!"

I tossed a pair of jeans.

"Come on, Potter," Draco Malfoy drawled. "Uncomfortable with my manhood or something? I was under the impression you had one, but maybe I was right about you all this time."

I blinked at him, shaking my head in speechlessness as he tugged on the jeans, which were actually his to begin with.

My mind was going too fast to process anything, and approximately one million and two thoughts were flying through my brain.

Was Maddy fucking Malfoy?

Were they… together? Was this a regular thing? How long had it been going on?

Why hadn't she told me?

Maybe he was there to comfort her when I left her and ever since then they've been together. Maybe that was why he told me about her family in the first place… to steal her away. How stupid could I _be_ to fall right into his trap? No… that wouldn't happen. Why was he still shirtless? Did my abs look like that?

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy," I snapped. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," he replied smoothly, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "After my Mads again? I think we've been through this storyline already."

_His Mads? _His _Mads?_

No, she was _not_ his Mads. At one point, she had been mine, but now she was no one's, especially not his. Never his.

"But you always were the one to go back to the old bone, huh?"

"Put some clothes on, unless you're trying to attract me to you." I smirked.

Malfoy snatched up a shirt and pulled it on. "Not a chance, Potter. Sorry to disappoint."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head as if I wasn't bothered in the least by the whole situation, which was beyond odd. I simply leaned back and stayed silent, waiting for his explanation. But two could play at this game. Malfoy finished putting some clothes on and rain a hand through his tousled hair, casually looking back at me. He knew exactly what I was trying to do and he wasn't about to let me get away with it.

I sighed. Enough with the games. "What the fuck are you doing here? In Hogwarts, not Maddy's shower."

He smiled, triumphant. "I'm a visitor."

"Does Hermione know you're here? She's going to be pretty pissed that you got in without her noticing, let alone that you're here at all. She's a lot tougher than she used to be, if you remember."

He raised his eyebrows. "Good. I like mine feisty."

I balled my hands into fists and stepped forward, right into his face and hissed, "Let me make this very clear for you, Malfoy. If you ever—and I mean _ever_—"

"What the hell?"

I turned to see Maddy standing in the doorway, her eyes flashing in anger. "Get out of my bedroom," she snapped at me, jerking her head at the door. Without even a second glance, she turned to look at Malfoy and scolded, "I leave you alone for five seconds and you're already in a fight? Come on, now, grow up. It was hatred from when you were eleven. Let it go."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and glared at me over her shoulders. "Go on, Potter. Let the grown ups play."

I didn't like what he was insinuating, but I left anyway, not wanting to intrude on Maddy's privacy.

"What did he want?" I heard her ask on my way out, and I paused to hear his answer.

"Oh, the usual. You."

**Hermione POV**

"Hermione!"

I glanced up form my desk. There stood Harry, looking distraught and angry. I sighed and set down my quill. I would hear the whole story in a few seconds, no doubt. I checked my watch. I had five minutes until Kingsley would be here to discuss education and how it was all going.

"I have two minutes for you, go," I told him.

I assumed there would be some long, complicated story involving Maddy, but instead he simply looked at me and said, "I thought you should know… Draco Malfoy's here. Maddy's room."

"What? Why?" I demanded, sending a Patronus to Kingsley to postpone our meeting for another hour. "Maddy's room? I'm going now."

He let me go, probably because he didn't want her to be mad at him. I paused at the door and knocked against my better judgment. But I was her employer and she deserved that respect, whether I liked it or not at the moment.

When Maddy answered the door she was laughing, fully clothed (to my relief) and sobered as soon as she saw me. "Hermione," she said, frowning slightly. "Is there a problem?" She started to walk outside and shut the door, expertly maneuvering her body so that I couldn't see what—or whom—was inside. Slick, but I stopped her quickly.

"Yes, actually, and it's in your room. May I?"

Stunned, she stepped aside and let me in. Fully clothed, too, (thank God!) he sat on her desk. He was smirking, as I assumed he would be, but he no longer made me want to shrink inside myself. I stood taller and shook my hair back, gripping my wand for safety and courage. I cocked my head to the side, eyes narrowed.

"Malfoy," I said crisply, channeling Minerva McGonagall inside myself. "We have procedures for entering Hogwarts, as I'm sure you're aware."

"Really? I had no idea!"

I shook my head and turned towards Maddy. "My office, please. Now."

She made a face at Harry as she left, but made no comment. I turned to Harry and nodded at him, indicating that I would no longer need him here, and he left too. I turned back to Malfoy, stepped closer, daring him to challenge me. This was my school, and I'd be damned if I was going to act like a coward inside of it.

"Big and bad, now, aren't you, Granger?"

The schoolgirl inside of me remembered crying herself to sleep, feeling useless and undeserving and never good enough to anyone. She remembered bowing turn, turning away, stepping back, always and forever being defeated. He was showing me everything I'd ever hated about myself just by standing there with that stupid smirk plastered on his smug face.

"That sounds about right." I took a measured breath and stepped even closer to him. He was in for surprise: I was stronger now. "I don't want you here," I told him simply.

"That's too bad," he replied pleasantly. "Because here I am. A problem for both of us, don't you think?"

"Not exactly," I countered, still moving closer. "See, now I'm the Headmistress, meaning I'm in charge here, like it or not. And I think you're a danger and a menace to students everywhere, especially here in Hogwarts. So do yourself a favor and get out before I make you."

Malfoy did look surprised, but he recovered quickly. "I'm staying, Granger. I'm visiting an old friend, and I intend to be here a while."

"Then go to Hogsmeade. Go and don't set foot in this school ever again, because the next time you do, we'll be ready with a wand instead of an open door." Before he could protest, I changed the subject. "Did Maddy let you in? Tell you about some secret passageway?"

"Room of Requirement," he replied airily. "Still here, that old thing," he added fondly. "Not a thing has changed inside it. The whole castle's been the same for centuries, I expect." He cocked his head to the side. "You're different, though."

I didn't like the way he was looking at me. I drew my wand.

"Damn right, I'm different!" I snapped, pointing it straight at him. "No get your shit out of Maddy's room and get a hotel. Before I'm forced to _escort_ you out of Hogwarts."

Raising his arms in surrender, Draco turned and stalked into her room, gathering his things together and cursing under his breath. His carefree, confident manner was gone as he stuffed everything he could into a backpack and turned to face me, still talking to himself.

"Fucking… no… not like I… bitch…."

"Excuse me?" I asked, lifting my chin.

"Oh, nothing," he spat bitterly, pushing past me and storming away, down the steps and into the classroom. "Not like money grows on trees, Granger! Not that you would know—you've never had any."

I sighed, shaking my head as I followed him into the hallway. "You have more than enough for a hotel for one night, I'm sure. And ff I remember correctly, you were always under the impression that it did grow on trees, or maybe right from your father's fingertips?"

He snorted. "Grow the fuck up. Things change."

I grabbed his arm and wheeled him around to face me. "Watch your language," I hissed. "This is a school."

"Oh, get over it."

I watched him storm away numbly, wondering what he meant by 'things change.' I knew better than most that everything could change in a matter of months. The months after the war were the worst months of my life for several reasons. I remembered Ron. I remembered our first kiss, our breakup, the fighting and misery, the triumphs and ups and downs like it was just yesterday. How we grew apart so quickly, changed so much in such a short time was a mystery to me. I remember the way I thought that the worst was over, yet it was still coming.

Everything fell apart and I played along obliviously until I no longer knew what I was doing with myself and the people I had once thought of as family.

Family.

What a fucking joke.

I never lifted the enchantment off my parents. I never went to Australia and found them, because I assumed they were happy, even happier without me. I had let them be, let them live their own lives without me bothering them with my problems and sorry life. I was doing them a service by staying out of their lives, and I'm sure if they knew they would thank me for it.

I don't know what made me do it. I don't know what I called out, kept moving, followed him. But I did.

"Malfoy!"

In a flash my trance was broken and I was looking up, scanning the hallway intently with a new purpose coursing through my veins. I took off running, my heart thumping in a confused panic.

"Malfoy!" I screeched again. "Malfoy, c'mon!"

There was no reply, and I made it to the fork in the hallway. I had no way of knowing which way he'd gone and absolutely no way of being able to tell if he had even obeyed me or turned around and gone right back. I could have stood there for hours and never reached a conclusion, but I barely paused. I flew on by, whipping around the corner and still sprinting after him.

Somehow my feet, following my heart, knew just where to take me.

I reached the exit of Hogwarts and shoved open the door, running on.

"Malfoy!" I shouted again, even louder this time.

I had gone the wrong way. I was wrong—again. I had made yet another mistake, and I would never know why I had taken off at such a feverish pace to follow someone I thoroughly hated. I started to turn away, already banishing this moment from my mind as I left.

Then I saw him. He must have sprinted basically the whole way, because Malfoy was only a teeny tiny speck on the horizon, about to step out of the Hogwarts boundaries and Apparate away.

I didn't hesitate. I took off, fast.

"Malfoy!" I screamed at the to of my lungs, the wind whipping at me as I ran like mad towards him.

Still, he didn't turn.

Even if I didn't make it in time… at least I was burning calories.

"Malfoy!" I waved my arms over my head, praying he would hear me. "Oh, come off it!" I snapped under my breath as I barreled towards him. "Draco fucking Malfoy, you better turn around this _instant_, you complete _fool!"_

Maybe he heard me coming, or screaming, or just sensed someone's presence, I thought at first. But no, Draco hadn't turned to see who was running towards him. He was turning to Apparate. And I couldn't—wouldn't—let him go.

"No!" I shouted, waving my arms again. His eyes widened as he took me in, but as I neared him, he was still turning and in the process of Apparating. _Oh, hell no, I did not run all this way to get left behind,_ was my thought process. I didn't stop.

Instead, I pushed myself to run faster and barreled right into him, forgetting about how dangerous this was, knocking with into the ground with only one ominous thought in my mind: _splinching._

**Draco POV**

_What the hell?_ was my only sentiment as I saw Granger running towards me, looking completely undignified and ridiculous and… well… kind of hot?

I was already Apparating, though, and I wasn't about the Splinch myself just to hear her rant and scream at me some more. I continued going, the curiosity tugging at me to stay but my body still moving, ready to leave.

The dumbass didn't stop. She ran right into me, taking both of lives into risk as she knocked my over into the grass, landing right on top of me. The girl was as light as a feather and her scent enveloped me as the curtain of hair fell across my face. I gently moved it aside, breathing in deeply and wondering how anything could smell so good. I was calm and serene—apparently the opposite of what she was feeling.

Disgust and horror contorted her face. Underneath the pleasure, I felt vaguely insulted. Surely I couldn't be that bad. She had hated me all her life, after all, but… still. Many women had told me various... things… about when they were on top of me—or below me, it really didn't matter. She couldn't possibly be this disgusted just by lying on op of my.

Then I felt the pain.

Searing, red-hot, all encompassing. It flat out hurt like a motherfucker.

"Ah," I murmured, staring at my arm, which was wrenched away from it's socket violently, noticing dazedly that I had a few fingernails missing and my leg was bent at an unnatural angle. Still confused about exactly what had happened, the pain was dulled. It slowly went away, leaving me only with the agony.

"Ouch," I said softly, touching my arm. As the numbness faded away, I gasped and screamed, "Ouch!"

"Oh, God," Granger breathed, pressing a hand to my face—ouch—my shoulder—ouch—my stomach—_shit, _how could something hurt so badly?—my thigh—mother_fucker_—my forehead.

There. That wasn't so bad. My forehead. It, at least, was safe from the pain.

But she gasped and pulled away her soothing palm immediately. Her fingers were covered in blood.

I thought I knew pain, but I was dead wrong. This… this was unreal. Her eyes swam before my in a haze of torment, confusion, and a bright blood red.

Her hands fluttered around my body, trying to find a safe place to rest them. She decided on sliding her hand into mine and pulling my up on my good leg.

"You're going to be okay," she promised me solemnly, and I knew she really meant it. "I know you're going to heal so fast, you won't even remember this happened."

I tried to reply, I really did, but it all came out as mush, which seemed to concern her even more than my injuries did. I always had a snappy, sarcastic remark for her, and if I didn't something was seriously wrong.

For some bizarre reason, I didn't want her to worry. Pulling myself together, I wracked my brain for something to say.

"Mother… fucking… crazy-ass witch…."

She forced a smile and then pulled out her wand and levitated me above her. "I wish the stupid spells weren't on this place!" she burst out savagely, looking ready to curse something, and took off running again.

**Harry POV**

Walking down the hallway alone, I heard footsteps pounding after me and stifled a groan. That was Maddy, coming to scream at me for kicking her—really, really evil—best friend out of the castle.

I turned to face her, bracing myself, but it was only a student who shot me a quizzical look as I faced her. I didn't blame her; my expression was probably ridiculous. I simply nodded as she slipped into class and turned back around to keep walking.

"Holy Mother of God!" I shouted.

Maddy stood right in my path, the very picture of anger. I steeled myself for a tongue-lashing like no other.

"Mature, Harry," she spat out and kept walking.

I almost wished she'd yelled at me. But then I pulled myself out of it, reminded myself that I really hated when Maddy screamed at anyone, especially me, and went on my way, because I had a class to teach and other things to worry about besides Voldemort's crazy daughter who I happened to care way too much about her crazy, conniving, contemptible best friend, possibly with benefits?

"My life really sucks," I murmured to myself as I walked away, and heard Ron's booming laugh behind me.

"You're telling me!" he shouted out. "I just saw Maddy, and she looked like she wanted to castrate something, mate. Is there anything you need to tell me?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

I shook my head, suddenly weary. "All I need is a drink."

**Hermione POV**

"Madame Krishna!" I shouted, bursting in to the Hospital Wing in a panic. For a moment, I wished fiercely for old Madame Pomfrey. Bring anyone with any kid of injury in; she knew just what to do. I had always had the utmost faith in her healing abilities, but her old apprentice, so to say, was a bit too… lacking in experience.

"Yes?" she chirped, ducking out of her office. In the same breath, she screeched, "Oh, dear God!" and spun back around, racing right back into her office.

I lowered Malfoy onto the hospital bed and looked helplessly down on him.

"Who… the hell… is that?" he gasped out. "And where… the fuck… is Madame Pomfrey when you need her?"

I smiled sympathetically, wondering if he knew how repulsive he looked at the moment. If it were anyone else, I wouldn't have blamed them for running far, far in the opposite direction, but it was the fucking school physician, who was supposed so be equipped to deal with this and much, much worse.

I, too, wished for Poppy Pomfrey more than anything at that moment.

And then, restoring my faith in humanity, Madame Krishna came bustling back out, looking pale but business-like, nervous but prepared. She got straight to work, ignoring my stupid questions completely.

"Will he be okay? How bad is the damage? What's happening? What are you doing to him now?"

I heard myself ask all of these questions, but I couldn't believe it was really me. I knew how to treat a person who'd been splinched. I'd fixed Ron and myself before, so I couldn't believe I was this panicked and confused.

"Miss Granger, step back," she said firmly but not unkindly, and I realized she was more like Madame Pomfrey than I'd realized.

I did so, nervously watching as she took his pulse, used disinfectant on him, wiping up the blood and then stopping the blood flow. She bandaged it all firmly and then leaned forward and whispered in his ear, loudly enough so that I could hear. "This might hurt just a pinch. One three, all right? One, two…"

But on _two_, she grabbed his arm and set it with the confidence of someone who had done it half a million times before. I winced as he yelled with a pain I wished I could take away.

"What… the fuck… happened… to _three?"_

She said nothing, only shook her head and muttered a disapproving _tut tut_ under her breath. I could almost feel his hatred and I thought she was doing it on purpose, giving him something to focus on besides the pain I was sure he felt.

"Can't you give him something?" I demanded. "A sleeping pill, to numb to pain?"

"If he goes under now," she said meaningfully. She didn't have to go on; we all knew what she was going to say, but she continued anyway: "He might never wake up."

I blinked and didn't reply, letting her go about her work.

"Listen to me," she said fiercely, grabbing his shoulder and looking into his eyes. "No, Mr. Malfoy, you _look_ at me." She forced him to meet her gaze, his eyes weary, but her alight with some sort of intensity I couldn't figure out. "You stay awake, d'you hear? You fight this pain—I know it hard, but if you don't fight it I swear to God I'll go down to hell and kick your ass, d'you understand me?"

I fought a small smile as he glared at her with a grudging respect.

His breathing became more and more labored and I strode forward, ignoring her warning. I slid my hand into his and squeezed it tightly, murmuring, "Make it through this for me, okay? For Maddy, who's waiting for you to call her from your hotel room. Hold on to me for Maddy."

And he met his gaze with a determination I had only seen a few times in my life before. In Harry's eyes as he faced off with the Darkest Wizard of all time. In Ron's eyes as he kissed me for the first time. In Maddy's eyes as she ran out of my office in her Hogwarts interview, in Ginny's as she fought Death Eater after Death Eater, in Mrs. Weasley's as she battled Bellatrix.

"Keep holding on," I whispered, begging him softly.

He nodded weakly but held my gaze.

"Hold this cloth here against his forehead. Don't you dare take off the pressure. Press _hard_."

I did so, and she dashed off, coming back with the materials for stitches. She pushed my hands away and began to stitches with the quick, precise movements of a seasoned professional, sewing up his forward quickly and effectively.

He was going to be just fine. I knew it by the way she gazed down on him, a mixture of pride and pity, sorrow and sympathy. He would be totally fine.

I stepped away from his bed and smiled down at him as she picked up his leg and put it into a splint. Malfoy grunted and winced in pain but said nothing, his eyes locked on mine.

"I'll go get Maddy," I told him slowly, backing away. "She'll want to be here for you, want to know what just… transpired."

He watched me go without a word, and Madame Krishna was too busy with her work to bother with my goodbye or to say anything her self. She was unwrapping his bandages to sew him up for good and re-wrapping his forehead.

I fled the room and ran straight for Maddy's classroom.

"Maddy!" shouted, barging in on her grading some papers. She looked up, her mouth already moving, her lips forming an apology for not having informed me of Draco coming to visit, but she stopped when she saw my expression. I guessed she was concerned, because she stood up and looked absolutely petrified.

"'Mione, what are you—what's wrong?"

"Malfoy," I choked out, suddenly losing my ability to speak. "Hospital wing. Splinched. It's bad, Maddy, really bad…"Just as I got my voice back, she was sprinting out the door already with not a moment to spare or a word to say. She reminded me of the way I took off so quickly before he could left.

I could feel some meaningful, possibly self-pitying thought coming on, but I couldn't put my finger on exactly what I was trying to say to myself. I guess it was in the Maddy had taken off, not needing details or even asking a single question before she rushed off to tend to her best friend. It kind of reminded me of the nonsensical way I'd taken off after Malfoy, but I couldn't stop thinking of the way I'd chased after Harry that night after Maddy interviewed, panicked and out of control. I wondered wearily if he and Ron ever felt so concerned about me and my well being, or they'd always expected me to take care of myself and the two of them. Probably not—and they would probably think they had time for a few drinks and a leisurely walk before rushing off to my bedside.

Especially Ron, who would decide he had time for a quickie with Lavender before bringing her down to the hospital wing for a five minute checkup before fucking his fiancée in the bathroom stalls.

I would just have to keep waiting, holding on for the moment when—if—they would realize that I was a good friend than they would ever be.

As if that time would ever come.

A girl had to hope, didn't she?

**Maddy POV**

"Draco!"

I burst through the hospital wing doorway, my heart pounding in panic. He lay on a bed, looking mangled and forlorn, but thankfully alive. Alive. The word rushed through my mind like a gust of wind, bringing relief to every thought it touched. Alive, at least, was a the best a girl could hope for. Racing to his bedside, I took his hand tightly and whispered, "God, I really fuck everything up, don't I?"

The alarm in his eyes surprised me; I'd been expecting him to smile and nod and make a wisecrack about my life ruining tendencies. Just the opposite of what I expected, she straightened up and said fiercely, "Don't you dare say that—you are the very best thing in my life, understand?"

I laughed softly, realizing that my words were truer than I had imagined when I'd said them jokingly. "The moment you come back into my life, you nearly die. Does that sound like a good friend to you?"

"It sounds like an accident prone idiot to me," he snapped, "and I'm not talking about you."

I rolled my eyes and put a hand to his forehead, testing his temperature. It seemed about the only thing I could do to show him that I really was worried for his welfare. His temperature seemed fine, really, but one look at his bloody bandages told me that the nurse hadn't done everything she could to stop the bleeding. I called Madame Krishna into the room and she all but sprinted to me.

"Yes?"

She was scanning his body as I spoke, making sure there was nothing seriously wrong with him in case she had to spring into action.

"He's still bleeding… can't you stop it?" I begged.

She smiled sympathetically. "I know it seems like he's losing blood all over the place, but the bandages are keeping as much in as possible, and I've already used all the spells possible to keep it inside. He'll be just fine, Miss Johnson, I promise."

I nodded tersely, turning my attention back to him.

"How'd it happen?"

His eyes seemed to light up with a strange kind of emotion as he rolled his eyes. "Your dumbass boss fucking latched onto me as I was Disapparating. Do you want to tell me how the fuck she scored the job?"

I threw back my head in laughter. "Draco!" I scolded, still giggling. "You know full well she's practically a genius."

"Uh huh."

I took his hand, intertwining my fingers with his, and I didn't let go all night—our hands were still twisted together as I drifted off to sleep, and my grip held through until the morning when I awoke and sat waiting for him to do the same. I finally had the best friend in the world back in my life, and I wasn't letting go until he pulled away.

I didn't notice Harry staring at our hands as we slept, and I didn't see how Hermione came to check on him at two in the morning. If I had, I would have seen everything that was coming before it happened, and I wouldn't have been so astonished at how things would eventually work out. But I was asleep when they came, when Hermione pushed back his hair and kissed his forehead gently and when Harry wiped at his eyes so quickly no one could really have been sure it happened.

I was too busy holding on to Draco Malfoy to notice them.

**All righty, review, review, review! Pretty please! After all, it is THanksgiving, and it would make me really thankful for my awesome readers! **


	9. Riot in the Dungeons Part One

**Hey all! I've been working and reworking this chapter for a while now; hope the wait wasn't too long! I'm sick, so I figured I might as well just finish it up and post it, so here it is! I immensely enjoyed this one, and I can't wait for the Part 2. I'd never heard this song before, and it just fit so perfectly with the chapter! Hope you all like it!**

_It's got to give, it's gonna break_

_Dying to live, our freedom's at stake_

_Beating the odds with our hearts and blood_

_We won't give in till they've had enough_

**Hermione POV**

Darkness. It was all I saw, all I felt. There was nothing around me but the black, the empty darkness that threatened to swallow me up.

I stood in the Room of Requirement, tugging at the wardrobe with all my strength. I was sweating and wearing only a bra and a pair of jeans. My hair, twisted up into a messy bun with twisted strands of my honey brown hair falling all over the place, was sticking to my face and neck because of the sweat dripping down my body. Why I didn't use magic was beyond me, but I kept tugging relentlessly, moving the huge cabinet a few centimeters at a time. I was making progress slowly but surely.

"Hermione!"

I turned to see Ron walking towards me, wearing only a pair of jeans, the easygoing smile I loved so much curling up his lips. He was sweating too, but it was more like glistening.

"Ron?" I said, and my voice sounded different. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't even seem to notice that I wasn't wearing a shirt. Apparently, I was now in some weird state of being were everyone walked around without a shirt on.

He took me into his arms and pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. "Oh, 'Mione, I've been so… blind."

I blushed delightedly. "What do you mean?"

"I finally told Lavender the truth I couldn't even acknowledge to myself," he whispered, bending down. "I've always loved you, Hermione." Pressing his lips to mine, he whirled me around and music began to play all around us.

By now it had occurred to me that I was only dreaming, because the situation was too beyond weird to count as reality. I watched, intrigued by my own bizarre fantasy and wondered exactly what my dream was supposed to mean. In my experience, dreams always meant something or another. I'd never had a dream that didn't give me some small amount of insight.

"I love you too," I replied, and then the man kissing me jerked back.

"Hermione?" he demanded, shocked.

"Ew!" I screamed.

Just a moment ago, I had been certain I was kissing Ron. But there stood Harry, looking absolutely disgusted. His expression mirrored the way I was feeling. I wiped my lips hastily with the back of my hand and shook my head in disbelief. There was no way I'd just been making out with Harry. There was just no way I'd even dream about kissing Harry! Even in my disgusted state, I couldn't help but notice that his abs were even better than Ron's had been, and I wondered idly how much he benched. I noticed him ogling my chest, and covering myself up with one lazy hand. Apparently dream Hermione wasn't much for modesty.

"This is just too weird for me," he said.

I nodded my agreement fervently and he began to walk away, but as he did, his body began to change. He grew taller and leaner, his arm muscles becoming slightly more defined, and when he turned back around, his abs were even more impressive than they had been. His hair was lightening; its normal jet black lightened into a chocolate brown, then more of a mocha color. It faded into dirty blonde before finally settling on the moonlight blonde I had only seen on three people before: Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy.

Draco looked at me with that famous arrogant smirk.

"Draco," I said, surprised to see him.

"Hermione," he replied, and with no more foreplay, he swept me up in his arms to kiss me, leaving me breathless when he pulled away. "I've been dying to do that since… well… yesterday."

"Wow," was all I said.

He opened his mouth, probably to confess his everlasting love for me, but I'd had enough talk. Three sentences uttered between the two of us was exceeding my limit. I crushed his mouth to mine and jumped up, reverse piggyback style, trying desperately to express my need for him.

After a few moments of the most wonderfully mind blowing kissing I'd ever experienced, he pulled away and I fell off of him, crumpled on the ground. I furrowed by brow in both confusion and hurt, and stretched out a hand, asking for him to help me up. Instead, his lip curled in disgust, and he turned and walked away.

And then—

Darkness. It was all I saw, all I felt. There was nothing around me but the black, the empty darkness that threatened to swallow me up. I got the feeling in my stomach like I was falling, like I was on a roller coaster. And I was screaming then, screaming so loudly I thought I would go deaf, that I would not ever be able to speak again—

"What the hell do you dream about?" a voice cut through the dreamy haze, and suddenly everything started going up in smoke.

I jerked upright to see Maddy standing there in jeans and a black tee shirt. She was holding a cigarette and cocked her head to the side with a knowing smirk that I had seen on her father countless times before. Needless to say, it didn't make me feel necessarily comfortable.

"What the hell are you doing in my room?" I snapped back, yanking up my sheet to cover up the lingerie I was sleeping in. "Get out!"

"Nah, I don't think I will."

With unnerving confidence, she stepped right up to me and suddenly she was wearing lingerie too, and smoking a cigar. Her hips shook side to side as she approached me and then let out a bloodcurdling scream. I whipped around to see a black smoke thing rising up from the floor, and we were engulfed once again into darkness.

"Hermione… c'mon, Hermione, wake up."

Someone prodded me with a stick and I was suddenly awake.

It wasn't a stick. They were pointing a wand right at me, and I was bound by my wrists with a gag around my mouth. Next to me were Maddy, Ron, and Harry, and they were tied exactly the same. Except that Maddy's gag was undone and she was being held by three masked figures, struggling with no avail. Her eyes were full of pain and unbridled anger as she stared at me, then breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank God you're awake," she said, and one of the figures clamped his hand over her mouth.

Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she bit down, hard. But she didn't stop there. She whirled on the spot and slammed her elbow into someone's face, and I heard the distinct sound of a nose being broken. The other two circled her, gauging her abilities, and it struck me that I had never had the need to defend myself. Sure, once of twice a man had come up to me and gotten out of hand, but I had simply used my wand to Stun and then Obliviate him. No sweat.

I was useless without my wand. Yes, I could perform magic without waving it, but not if another wizard had captured it from me.

I should learn to defend myself, I decided, a little too late.

She rushed one man, shoving her shoulder into him, and when he brought up a fist to punch her, she grabbed it, twisted his arm and used it to shove him back against the wall, still twisting it into an unnatural angle and shoving it back into his own face.

"Mmmm!" I tried to scream against my gag. "Mmmm!"

I wanted to warn her; the second man was approaching her with the stance of a man who wanted to kill, but I couldn't get the words out no matter for lack of trying.

She was already aware, though, it seemed. Maddy turned, spinning and kicking out her leg squarely into his chest. She grabbed his neck, twisted it to the neck, then to the right, and used her momentum to slam herself back on the guy she'd just been fighting with, effectively knocking them both out.

She paused for a moment, seemed to forget about the third, whose face was twisted with vicious intent. I tried to get a good look at him, wanting to remember all their features, but the other two were now turned away from me and his face was so distorted that I couldn't even be sure as the two of them blurred, parrying blows, ducking whirling, cutting, each trying their best to outdo the other. Maddy grunted with each punch, each blow, but she took the pain easily and did her best to inflict it back on him.

"Hermione," a voice whispered in my ear, and I turned to see Ron and Harry flew their wrists and cracking their knuckles.

Harry stood up, ducking to avoid the man's elbow coming back to hit him, and—_bam._ With one single punch, the man fell to the ground, clutching his cheekbone. He attempted to get back up, but Maddy slammed her foot down on top of his chest with all his might, and he winced. Victorious, she sneered, panting, "Who's a whiny, pathetic bitch now?"

I wondered vaguely how long I'd been out as they untied me. It made sense now that I thought about it, that Maddy had taken on three grown men. Yes, she'd taken on two, but I couldn't help thinking that the third would have taken her down after a while, and it looked as if she knew it. The whole thing was a distraction to let us untie ourselves. For once in my life, I'd simply been too slow to see it.

Ron finished untying me and I quickly un-gagged myself, standing up. But everything spun and I felt myself getting dizzier and dizzier. Staggering to the ground, I felt a strong pair of arm catch me and steady me.

"She's still under the drug they gave us," he announced to Maddy and Harry, who were busy erasing their memories.

Maddy strode over. "Damn. There's no way she can walk, and we don't have much time." She checked her watch, but realized it was gone, and let out a string of curse words that I would have cringed at, had I been in my right mind.

"What… happened?" I managed woozily, and she shook her head.

"Oh, she's a goner. I don't suppose… I mean, you couldn't…"

Ron finished, "Carry her?" He shifted it wait with a grunt and suddenly my feet were swept off the ground and I was completely in his arms. Literally swept off my feet.

"No, no," I protested feebly, but no one paid him any mind.

"You can take turns with Harry," Maddy told him, patting his arm as a thank you, but Ron shook his head stubbornly.

"I've got her."

Maddy raised her eyebrows and said nothing. She turned back to Harry and I heard them talking in low, urgent tones, but I couldn't hear them and what they were saying appeared to hold nothing of interest to Ron. He looked down at me and smiled, gently fingering what I supposed to be a bruise. It felt more tender than the rest of my face.

"Are you going to carry me across a threshold?" I asked goofily, reaching up to caress his cheek as well. I made a face and added, "I don't think Lavender would be particularly happy about that, you know. It's reserved for her."

He frowned, clearly unhappy with my words, and opened his mouth to correct me, but ended up saying nothing. He walked over to the other two, still holding me, and we began walking down the hallway in silence after Maddy had picked the lock. I wrapped my arms around his neck to keep myself from falling and watched Maddy try to find her way out. I craned my neck and saw Harry at our backs, watching our flank. He had no wand, either but I supposed years of battling it out with Dudley, his cousin, had given him some experience with fighting. As did Maddy, obviously. I wondered where she had learned to fight like that, and then I supposed the answer was obvious. She was Voldemort's daughter, for crying out loud. I was sure she knew a million different ways to kill someone with her own bare hands, and that made me just a little bit terrified. Not of her necessarily, but of the things Death Eater could have done to me, and sometimes had, when I was powerless.

"Where are we going?" I whispered to Ron, and he pressed a finger to my lips, hushing me effectively.

Maddy went left at a fork in the hallway, and waved us all to the right. Ron obeyed with no question, but Harry stepped up to her and demanded, "Where are you going? If you're fighting, I'm coming."

She raised her eyebrows and hissed back, "Harry, you need to protect them." She jerked a thumb back at Ron and I, and I knew I wasn't the only one who felt vaguely insulted when his grip on me tightened and his frown deepened. It wasn't like Ron and I were pathetic baggage, but I was obviously drugged, and he was trying to protect me.

"You know it's true," she said forcefully, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

He frowned, looking between us, his best friends, and Maddy, his… well, whatever she was to him, and made a decision.

"Ron can take care of her," Harry replied, "and himself. They're not useless, you know—just wandless."

She snorted, rolling her eyes, and they flashed angrily. "I know they're not _useless_, Harry, Hermione and Ron are fucking famous for—" She took one calming breath and finally said, "I can take care of myself. Right now, Hermione can't. Protect _her._"

And with that, she slipped away, and Harry fell back with us, clenching and unclenching his fists tightly, anger plain on his face.

I let out a laugh, and Ron clamped his hand down on my mouth a little too tightly. I licked him a tiny bit and he released me automatically in disgust.

"Ew, 'Mione."

I giggled and turned to Harry. "Oh, you're crazy about her."

He rolled his eyes and responded, "Oh, please. You don't know what you're talking about, Hermione. We were friends, and now we're not. She annoys the hell out of me."

"Which is why you're so desperate to protect her?"

Silence. I smiled, victorious.

"I think you just can't stand the thought of losing her, so you try as much as possible to protect her. But she can't stand the thought of you getting hurt trying to help her, so she goes alone." I sighed. "It's all very romantic, really."

Harry opened his mouth. Heatedly, he replied, "You don't—"

"Would you lot just shut the hell up until Maddy gets back?" Ron interjected, his voice almost menacing in the dark, and we both fell silent.

We waited. And waited. And waited some more

But still, Maddy didn't return.

I watched Harry in the dark as he clenched his fists together tightly. I saw the undiluted fear in his eyes as she watched almost without blinking, waiting, praying for her to come back.

**Maddy POV**

I knew that what I was doing was wrong. I was jeopardizing my friends' safety—and possibly even their lives—for my own sake. But I had to know. I had to be sure. I couldn't possibly just walk away now, not now that I was so close. Maybe they were counting on my curiosity to kill the cat. Maybe at this very moment Hermione was being knocked unconscious while Ron tried desperately to protect her, the girl he so obviously loved. Maybe at this very moment Harry was being tied back up and thrown into a cell like an animal. Maybe Hermione's beautiful face was being dragged across the floor—

I forced the thoughts from my mind.

I had to focus. I had no choice in this matter.

I crept silently along the hallway, always jumping back and readying myself for a fight every time that I heard even the slightest noise. Being careless could very well end my life in a place like this.

Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, there were voices.

"…Locked up. Apparently the blonde put up quite a fight."

"Good. Those are always the most fun to break, the feisty ones."

I cringed away, but forced myself to listen. I had to hear this, no matter how sick it made me, no matter what they said about me—

"I wouldn't mind taking her out of the cell and up to the chamber she used to sleep in. Maybe this time I could sleep with her…"

Jeering laughter rang out, and I bit my tongue to keep from rushing in there and screaming at them all.

"Focus," someone commanded, and they all fell silent. "We have a job to do."

"We've got them all captured. The job is completed and now we'd all like to have some fun. With a hot blonde. Is that too much to ask, _boss?_"

"_Crucio!"_

Earsplitting shriek rang out and I cringed. There was nothing to interest me here. I wanted to keep moving, to get away front his place, because this screaming, this pain… it reminded me too much of another time when I was subject to this far too often, by my own father.

"_Get up," Father hissed, his voice full of malice._

_I lay on the ground, gasping for air, taking deep, wonderful breaths of oxygen and marveling at how glorious breathing was. I had never noticed before, how great it felt to inhale and exhale._

_I stood shakily. I was many things, but a coward was not one of them._

_I would not give him the satisfaction of calling me weak._

"_Crucio!"_

_I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. I would never—_never—_give him that satisfaction of knowing he broke me. I couldn't, wouldn't succumb to the agony that was ripping my apart, tearing me up from the inside out, clawing at me, pulling me down._

_My vision swam, shifting from an inky black to a vivid blue to blood red. I threw back my head in anguish, clutching at my hair, my head, my face, desperate for it to stop, ready to do anything, absolutely anything, for it to stop, for it to be over._

_I would scream._

_I would cry._

_I would beg and plead and implore and beseech._

_I would wail, sob, weep, snivel, whimper, howl._

_I didn't care what it took, what level I would stoop to… I would end this pain. I would kill myself and anyone else just to end it, just to let myself go. A scream fought its way to my throat, threatening to explode, and I reeled it back in, my body shaking with the effort it took. I didn't care. I didn't fucking care; oh God, how could pain like this exist? I threw back my head yet again, my mouth opening of its own accord, but I fought it, fought it hard, and my jaw slammed shut again with a force I didn't know I had._

_What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger._

_But I wanted it to kill me. I didn't care about being strong. Not anymore._

_I never would again._

_I would die here, writhing in misery and torment, slowly losing my mind. If he kept this up, I would have no mind left to speak of._

_And then it was over, done, gone, but only for a moment. I knew better than to expect for him to quiet. It would take a miracle for him to quiet. My body shook with all the effort it took for me to simply stand up, and I realized belatedly that I'd sunk to my knees in the process._

_I stood and looked him in the eye, glaring with everything I had left. Unfortunately, it wasn't much, and my fury was no match for his. I summoned all my strength and did the one thing I could think of in that moment, a thing that was a unforgiveable as anything, and I took great pleasure in spitting right in my father's face._

_Shock isn't strong enough of a word for what he felt, for what emotion appeared on his face. It was the single most menacing thing I'd ever seen to this day. _

_Indignation. Wrath. Rage. And then the most dangerous look came into his eyes and he screamed, "Imperio!"_

_I fought it._

_I fought it with everything I had._

_I fought it with everything I had, every fiber of my being, every piece of my soul; every beat of my heart and every piece of fragile strength I owned was put into defying him._

"_Walk over to the balcony."_

"_No."_

_I didn't want to walk over to the balcony, I told myself reasonably. There was all the glass he'd shattered earlier over there. I would cut myself. The balcony from the view wasn't even all that great. And I didn't want to walk. I was too lazy._

_I resisted that. I had beaten it._

_Or so I thought._

"_Walk over to the balcony, you vapid, useless bitch!"_

_I took one step. Two. Three, four, fi—_

"_No!" I halted where I was, and allowed myself one proud smile before I went charging back at him, wishing with all my might I was able to take him down with a single tackle._

"_Listen to me, Madeleine Riddle—sorry excuse for a Riddle— you walk onto the balcony, and throw yourself the hell off it, understand?" he shrieked._

_A tremor or terror ran threw me, and I was the vicious glint in his eyes. He knew he'd scared me. He knew his words had the intended effect. I was officially horrified beyond all comprehension. He was going to force me to kill myself._

"_Your mother's waiting for you just under the balcony."_

_He'd softened his voice; it sounded welcoming, soft, tender, even loving. I couldn't help but believe him, couldn't help but trust him. He was, after all, my father. He had, after all, loved my mother, of course. He and I would jump together, and then three of us could be together again. A real family._

_Wake up! Wake the fuck up, Maddy, he's tricking you!_

_But the words escaped before I could reel them back in—"My mother? My mom?"_

"_Yes, she's been waiting for you."_

_I swallowed the emotional lump in my throat. I had always wanted to meet my mother, always. I hated being without a mom my whole life, and I adored the idea of finally having one. Even if I did have to jump off a balcony to find her, at least we would finally be together again._

_Something struck me._

"_Why doesn't she just come up here?"_

"_She can't. You have to go down there."_

_But he had lost his patience, and I heard the undercurrent of hatred in his voice, and stopped in my tracks. No way in hell was I committing suicide because of him. If I was to die, I would die standing on my own two feet, fighting for my life, the way I'd been destined to go. I was my mother's daughter and I would fight to the death to defeat the man who had killed her, and who was trying to kill me._

"_You wanna kill me?" I hissed. "Then kill me and be done with it, _Father—_sorry excuse for a father, really_. _But don't you take the cowardly way."_

_His eyes lit up with a sick kind of delight. "You want me to murder you? That's fine, I was planning on it." His red eyes, glowing eerily, disgusted me beyond words. The ire in them was not something to be unleashed, yet I couldn't just tiptoe around him. Not anymore. "But you're taking the slow way out, _daughter."

_Daughter. Daughter. Daughter._

"_I. Am not. Your. Fucking. Daughter!"_

_I lunged at him, longing to tear his face out with my own bare hands, clawing at the horror in front of me, desperate to injure him in some physical, quantifiable way—_whoosh_!_

_I was pinned up against the wall, struggling against invisible bindings to break free—_

Focus, Maddy. Come back to earth. Come back to the present.

I breathed in and out several times before I realized I was sweating and panting. The memory had been so vivid—so terrifying—so…

Enough. Enough is enough.

You've got to carry on.

And so I did. The man in there was still screaming, so I continued on my way, not sure what I was searching for. I went with whatever my first instinct told me, and I never second-guessed myself. That was a sure way to get lost. Finally, the hallway came to an end, and at the end of the hallway there was a cell, alone from the rest. I approached it carefully, wishing desperately for my wand.

"Oi. You."

I did my best to sound like the guards who'd spoken such heinous words to me earlier, and I suppose it worked, because the prisoner stood and drew closer to the door. And then—

"Maddy?"

I gasped, recoiling. No. No, it couldn't be.

But it was.

"Goyle?"

"And Crabbe," he added, pointing behind me to reveal Crabbe glaring at me through his bars. Suddenly, he began to chuckle darkly, shaking his head at some kind of irony the rest of us couldn't see. I turned to Goyle to ask, but she simply shrugged and shook his head.

I'd given up trying to understand these two a long time ago.

"Family reunion?" Crabbe chortled, and I glared.

"I am not your family," I told him firmly, taking out my hair pain and picking his lock carefully. "Any guards in there?"

He shook his head, no. "You sure used to be, about three years ago. Family, I mean."

I couldn't believe he was actually talking about that. Stopping picking his lock, I replied, "We all know I merely put up with your for Draco's sake. We weren't friends, much less family, Crabbe."

He shrugged, as if it made no difference to him, and I opened the door wide for him to get out and went to work on Goyle cell.

"What happened to you two?"

Goyle shrugged. "I don't know. One minute we were at the bar, about to get good and drunk—" insert dramatic eye roll here— "and then we were lying in these cells. Probably getting ready to die." He seemed to be sizing me up, and I must have passed inspection when I opened the door for him to get out, too, because he added, "Or reenlist."

Reenlist?

Reenlist.

_Reenlist._

My eyebrows shot up. "He's dead." My voice was firm, but there was no denying that it had shaken a little bit. "He's been dead for two years."

Goyle smiled with no joy. "He's been known to come back, you know."

"All right, maybe he's back and maybe he's not, but I'd prefer not to die tonight," Crabbe cut in, his voice harsh, "so let's get a move on, shall we?"

He was right, so I went first and let the other two fell behind me. We'd walked back the way I came for about two minutes before I realized there was no way I could take this lot back to Harry, Hermione, and Ron. They'd despised each other since they were kids and probably still did. So where exactly was I going to go?

"Hey," I said, turning around. "Where are we going?"

Crabbe smiled, sending chills up my spine. "Oh, don't worry, Princess." He stepped closer, the smile turning sinister. "We'll take you somewhere nice and safe."

And then everything went black.

**Earlier that day**

"C'mon, Maddy, I'm trying to make things right. And I know you love Quidditch."

"That's not the point," I replied, avoiding his gaze. "The point is, us being friends, it doesn't work out. We're just not meant to be like that. I'm sorry."

"Bullshit," Harry said promptly. "You're just taking the easy way out."

I shot him a glare and sighed, trying to turn away from him and end the conversation. It was depressing me and if we talked any longer, I knew I was about to get angry.

"Look, just come, please? It's going to be really fun, and everyone will be there. Odds are you'll have a great time."

I pursed my lips. I did love Quidditch, and it would be really fun to hang out with everyone… England hadn't hosted the Quidditch World Cup since I was fourteen years old, and I hadn't even known what Quidditch was at the time. Plus I wasn't allowed out of my tower.

"Well…."

He smiled, knowing he'd won.

"Okay. I'll go," I conceded. "Thank you for inviting me. But just so you know, this doesn't mean I forgive you. The odds are way against that."

"Oh, you're coming?" Luna cut in dreamily, smiling at me. "It'll be so fun!"

I smiled back, while Ron started a conversation with Harry over who they thought would win, and Luna fell back into a conversation with Neville. I had never really noticed; they made a good couple. They were very alike—both kind of strange personalities, but unquestionably kind hearted, intelligent, and brave. Their loyalty set them apart, too, I noticed. I knew that they had fought alongside Harry, Hermione, and Ron against my—Lord Voldemort. I hoped they would be together for a long time. Their happiness as a couple was refreshing, to be honest, and it relaxed me to see that not everything was so fucked up that there was no one left to be with them. Luna and Neville were strange, yes, and they had been through a lot. But that didn't stop them from being happy with each other, which was something I longed for.

I didn't want to be the bitchy sixteen-year-old, whining that I wanted a boyfriend.

I was a grown woman and I didn't want a boyfriend per se; I wanted someone to be there for me when I needed them. I had Sarah, of course, and Johnny, and now Draco was back in my life. But it wasn't the same. Sarah and Johnny had each other and they had been a couple for the entire time I'd known Johnny. Draco had whatever girl he was screwing around with at the time, and he didn't need anyone to take care of him anyway. He took care of himself.

I wanted to take care of someone and to be taken care of.

Was that simply too much to ask?

I shrugged off the impending pity party, forcing myself to calm down. I was perfectly fine with being single. I'd been single for the first seventeen years of my life and this would not be any different.

**. . . .**

The Quidditch World Cup.

All I could say was, "Wow."

Harry grinned, elbowing him gently in the side. He chuckled at my expression. "It's pretty amazing, right?"

And it was. Wizards and witches mulled around the previously abandoned clearing, some wearing robes and their team's jerseys. Others were dressed more carefully as Muggles, like Ron, Harry, Hermione, Luna, and Neville, and I were. The one thing everybody seemed to have in common was the excitement clearly etched on their faces. I couldn't help but smile at the scene around me, all the people looking thrilled. They placed bets and danced around, drinking and laughing.

I couldn't believe I was really here.

"Ginny!"

I turned and saw Hermione running towards a beautiful girl with flaming red hair, and I knew instantly she must be Ron's younger sister. She was holding on to someone's hand, who I presumed was Dean, and he embraced Neville, Ron, and Harry with an easygoing manner.

After the two of them had hugged their old friends, Ginny turned to me with a smile.

"You must be Maddy," she said, shaking my hand. "I've heard a lot about you."

I smiled back and shook her head. "Yes, and you must be Ginny. I can tell from the hair!"

Everyone around us laughed and she introduced Dean to me. He shook my head politely, inquiring on my team and I told him I obviously wanted England to win, even against the odds, and he roared with laughter, telling me that he agreed.

We set up the tents, and began walking around together to scope out the place and find anyone they may know. They ran into a few people, and politely introduced me as Madeleine Johnson - not Riddle, thank God. Everyone was pretty nice about meeting me, and we hung around a few kids they must have known from Hogwarts. There was a man named Seamus, and two girls named Parvati and Padma, along with Cho Chang—which seemed an awkward kind of greeting to me, but then I didn't know much about their old friends—and a lot of other people whose names I had lost track of.

"I can't wait to see Wood," Harry said to Ron, who nodded back.

"I know!" He thumped Harry on the back in his enthusiasm. "Good mate, getting us tickets, eh? I guess I always knew he was a better Keeper than me."

Harry grinned. "Not when you have Felix Felics."

Ron roared with laughter, and I watched the exchange with amusement, wondering what they were referring to. Luna jumped in with a giggle, "And what about my commentary? Oh, look… there's the Quaffle... no, that's the Snitch!"

At this, everybody laughed, and Neville reeled Luna in, winding his arm around his waist and kissing her cheek. "My sports expert," he said fondly, and she smiled delightedly.

We ate dinner together, with Hermione, Ginny, and I all pitching in around the kitchen. Luna tried to help, but it was evident soon that whatever she made wasn't going to be edible, so we sent her back to Neville and promised she could make some of her famous soup for another meal. We ate, went to all the shops set up, bought a few trinkets before heading back for an early night. We had to wake up early for the Cup tomorrow.

The next morning, we wandered around for a little while longer until finally it was time to take our seats. We got amazing seats, courtesy of England's Keeper, Oliver Wood, and I was nearly bouncing up and down with excitement in my seat. My first real Quidditch game! The World Cup, at that—and we were sitting right up front with one of the best views in the place.

Excitement didn't even cover it.

"Oh, no!" I shouted suddenly, distraught.

"What?"

"I left my Omnioculars in the tent," I replied, furious with myself. Harry had bought one for everyone, except Ron and Hermione, who already had them, and I'd managed to lose it already! I checked my watch hurriedly. "I have enough time to go get them. I'll be right back."

Harry stood up, stopping me. "No, you won't. You don't even remember where the tent is," he pointed out.

"No, I—" I started to protest before realizing he was right. In my eagerness to get to the game, I hadn't paid much attention to my surroundings.

"I'll go with you. C'mon."

We took off, sprinting all the way to the tent, which was a pretty long way, it turned out, and when we got there we both needed a glass of water. I went to the kitchen and poured to cups full while Harry searched for the Omnioculars. I gulped mine down and began to pour another one when there was a loud crash.

"Harry?" I called.

"It's fine—they're not in here. I'll check outside the tent."

I heard him stop to the front and wondered why he'd gotten in such a bad mood. Following the sound of the noise, I realized that he'd dropped my suitcase and a photograph had fallen out. I picked it up, and saw my favorite picture in the world.

We were all laughing, Sarah and John, Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and me. John's arm was slipped around Sarah's waist, and she was eyeing him adorably as he leaned in to kiss her. Crabbe and Goyle was goofing around, elbowing each other and making catcalls when John moved in to kiss her lips. Draco and I stood in the middle, and he reached for my hand, dropped to his knees, and pretended to proclaim his love for me. I remembered this exact moment so well, the way I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe, the warm, fuzzy feeling building up inside of me as I stood with my best friends (and Crabbe and Goyle). I pulled him up and Draco spun me around and dipped me, my hair blowing in the wind.

I tucked the frame back into my suitcase, zipped it up, and followed Harry outside. Yes, he hated Draco, but that didn't mean he had to get all moody about it. I rolled my eyes and reigned in my anger. He had invited me here, after all.

"Harry, you find them yet?"

There was no answer. I walked around the tent twice, but he wasn't there and I didn't believe that he would just leave me here if he didn't find the Omnioculars.

"Harry?" I shouted, hoping he couldn't here me.

"You looking for someone?" a voice asked, and I spun around.

I didn't even see his face; it all happened so fast.

A rag was pressed to my face, a finger pushed against my pressure point, and my wand was neatly extracted out of my pocket. I reached desperately for it, fighting to get them off of me, but I was growing weaker, and they fought me right back.

Blackness was closing in.

"No," I mumbled as they tipped some sort of liquid into my mouth and I fell into oblivion.

**Goyle POV**

"This way," I grunted, shifting Maddy's weight again. We turned right and Crabbe snickered at my struggle with her.

"Want me to hold her?" he offered, sniggering.

I cast him a look. "Bitch is heavy, all right?"

"Yeah, whatever."

We walked in silence for a few minutes before I turned to him and asked softly, "What do you think he wants her for?"

Crabbe simply looked at me, like he couldn't believe how idiotic I was being. He shook his head and picked up the pace, but I kept up with him easily.

"She's his daughter. She betrayed him. What do _you_ think he wants with her?"

I swallowed and looked at Maddy's face. Mads had always been beautiful, even when we were kids. She was too pale, and always looked a little sick to me, but being outside looked good on her. She'd picked up a tan, a kind of glow that made her look even better. The innocence on her face was one I hadn't seen in years, and it felt good that she didn't have to know that fate she was about to face. But it didn't feel good that I was the one bringing her there.

"Did you mean what you said?" I asked suddenly, stopping.

"Did I mean what?" Crabbe snapped.

"What you said. To M—her. About being family."

Exasperated, he retorted, "Family. With the Dark Lord's disowned daughter? I—" He broke off, seeing my expression. "Oh, all right, yeah, Goyle, I saw her and got warm fuzzies inside my chest. I was like, oh yeah, there's my ex-nonbiological sister Maddy, and now I'm taking her to her father, my boss, to be tortured, possibly to death. So I was all like, Maddy, lil' sis, I've missed you ever so much!"

"Oh, shut up."

"What? You honestly think of her as family?"

"Not as family," I replied defensively. "Just… we're old friends, right?"

He rolled his eyes. "I don't believe this. She meant what she said, you know. About her putting up with us for Draco's sake. I doubt she ever thought of you as a friend, Goyle. So put away your conscience for now, and we'll drink it away later. Deal?"

He didn't wait for my response, just kept walking ahead of me. I watched him go, the strangest numb feeling creeping over me and he finally turned back to look at me.

"I have to drug her now," I explained. "It's been ten minutes that she's been unconscious."

"Then do it." He peered down the hallway anxiously. "I don't wanna be late."

I grabbed the bottle out of my robes and uncorked it, staring at the liquid. Crabbe turned away again, waiting for me to be done, and I tipped it hesitantly to her mouth. It struck me so suddenly, so strongly, that I nearly dropped the bottle.

I didn't want to.

It wasn't that I had suddenly developed feelings for Maddy that wouldn't permit me to. It was that, looking at her face… I think it made me remember when I was just a kid. When I didn't have to do this type of shit. When I still thought my family was full of normal, good people who abided with the law and weren't… weren't what I had become.

I bent down quickly and poured it all down the drain and pocketed the empty bottle. I was so fucked for this.

Crabbe turned around and snapped, "What the hell are you doing now?"

"Shoe lace," I muttered. "Sorry."

"Yeah, whatever." He grabbed Maddy and pulled her up onto his shoulders. "Let's get a move on. You're a real pain in the ass today." He glared sideways at me and began walking quickly, bringing her to the Dark Lord. "Do me a favor, would you? Don't let him see you like this, all right? Just… toughen it up."

I nodded firmly and faced the door, shoving it open like I wasn't walking into a living hell.

We were here.

Crabbed set Maddy down on the floor with no preamble, and he head hit the stone floor just a little too hard. I winced. That was going to bruise.

Of course, that was only if she could live long enough to feel the bruises.

The odds weren't exactly in her favor.

**Maddy POV**

When I came around, I was sitting in a comfortable chair, and luckily they'd neglected to drug me. I could see clearly and think clearly, and I knew enough about captivity to stay still, like I was still unconscious. When I dared to open my eyes the tiniest bit, I almost fell out of my chair. It was all I could do not to jump up nad curse him right then and there.

Lord fucking Voldemort.

Of course.

Isn't that why I went on my own? To find him? But I didn't believe I actually would. I didn't think I actually could! Crabbe and Goyle had unknowingly giving me just what I wanted… at the wrong moment.

I had no wand. What could I do? Of course, I could fight physically, but Voldemort wasn't someone who would play fair. He could curse me into oblivion and then call me a coward for not fighting back when I had no wand.

Well, I would have to Disarm someone. Steal their wand when they weren't looking. I could tell it wasn't much fun to stare at an unconscious person for hours on end, because the Death Eaters surrounding me were all facing away and even Voldemort stood up and began pacing. All their attention was focused on him.

Footsteps. Nearing me.

I held my breath as someone walked right in front of me, their gaze glued to the man who'd called himself my father.

I had to act now. I reached out with no hesitation—it was now or never—and snatched their wand right out of their pocket. He simply kept walking, completely unaware.

I surveyed the room as I tucked the wand into my pocket discreetly, and found that someone had seen me. I gripped her wand like a lifeline, ready to draw it at any moment. My heart raced, pounded; my blood rushed. And then he—was it Goyle? I couldn't tell—smiled and relaxed, nodding his head slightly at me before turning to the Dark Lord.

Goyle. Thank God.

A rush of relief consumed me.

He was on my side. He didn't want me to be hurt. He might be a Death Eater, and he wouldn't fight with me, but he wouldn't fight against me either. Not directly, at least. And that meant something huge to me. I knew what loyalty meant to my father, and anyone who wasn't with him was against him in his mind. Goyle had risked his life simply by smiling at me.

And, it occurred to me; maybe it wasn't an accident that I hadn't been drugged.

I gripped the wand tightly, ready to spring into action at any moment.

Get good and ready, Dad, I thought, the bitter sarcasm seeping into even my thoughts. Get ready for have the fight of your life. There's a prisoner in the dungeons who's dying to live and ready to fight.

**So, what'd you think? Review please!**


	10. Riot in the Dungeons Part Two

**This chapter was kinda short, yeah, I know. But I did have a lot of fun writing it, and I think it's fairly good. I just wanted Maddy to have a victory, you know? She deserved one, in my opinion. I could't exactly kill her off just now, I think you'd all hate me for it. And I didn't want her to go into battle mode quite yet, the story's not there yet. I hope you all enjoy!**

****_Trapped behind bars, prisoners of death_

_All hope is ours, we can't give up yet_

_Ready to fight to get what we need_

_To die on your feet or live on your knees_

**Maddy POV**

"She broke out."

His voice was full of a terrifying suppressed anger, and I held back a shudder and tried desperately not to slip back into a memory that I didn't want to relive under any circumstances.

"How the hell did she break out?"

"Sir, she's been taught how to fight…"

"I know that! I'm the one who taught her, you ignorant fool!" He whirled on the poor messenger, who was doing all he could not to shake under Voldemort's menacing gaze.

No, you didn't, I said to myself, inwardly rolling my eyes. You ordered someone else to teach me, asshole. There's a difference.

"I'm sorry, my Lord, but you have her now…"

"But the boy! And his friends!" he roared, curlign his fingers into a fist, then flexing them, the balling them back into a fist, ready to punch something.

"They are gone, my Lord." He bowed his head.

Voldemort spat at his servant's shoes, shaking with rage. "They were _essential_—are you listening, you insufferable moron?—_essential _to this plan." With an eerily repressed calm, he turned to face me and continued to speak. "Without them, it's almost impossible to do what we intended. Do you realize this?"

"N—no, my Lord," he whispered, paling and backing away slowly.

"I thought not." He turned to the man, the eerie calm still on his face, but not touching his ire-filled eyes. "Well, I can't reward ignorance," he continued, his voice almost disturbingly offhand. "_Avada kedavra!"_

I nearly jumped out my seat in an attempt to stop him, but I made myself remain motionless, forced myself to sit there while he died, and I think that was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. I knew that if I stood, I would be drugged, bound, dead, tortured, or countless other things, but I wanted nothing more than to save that man from the monster that stood before him.

Yes, I'd seen death before. I'd killed before. Nameless, faceless people, people who probably had families that called for my blood and lives I'd forced them to leave behind, and it's not easy. I'd never cast a killing curse, and I'd never directly killed someone, point blank. But I knew somewhere I'd been the cause of their death, and that was more painful than I could have imagined.

But this… this was different.

Just as I'd killed, I'd saved.

I'd risked my own life to save others, and I'd never regretted it. I'd never thought myself the kind of person to sit around while someone else died. I couldn't imagine being that kind of person, but somehow that was exactly the person I'd become, and I hated myself for it.

I could justify it in all sorts of ways: if I moved, I'd most likely be dead. And they would have killed him anyway once they'd dragged me away. The Killing Curse was pretty much infallible. The only person that had ever beat it was far, far away, thank God - I didn't want him anywhere near this kind of danger - and no one knew how or why, as far as I knew. I probably couldn't have saved him, but I could have tried.

And the anonymous, uncelebrated man feel to the floor, likely never to be spoken of again until someone told the family, and then they would cry out his name, again and again, feeling like they could never be made whole again, as if nothing would be the same again. Maybe he had a girlfriend, a wife, kids. Parents, aunts, uncles… they would mourn for him, consumed by their grief, and I would be the reason that the tears would spill from their eyes. I remained emotionless. On the inside if where the battle took place.

As he crumpled, a piece of my soul that I can never get back crumpled with him, burning away inside of me while I watched, powerless to stop it.

The innocence in me, the barest, tiniest bit of what was left of my innocence, fell away with him, never to return, just like him.

I choked back the sob, tried to reign in the grief, tried to make myself unsee the death of I a man that I never knew. But could have saved.

And though I didn't know it now, days later, weeks later, I would jerk awake at night, covered in sweat and with the sheets twisted all around my legs, my hair stuck to my neck and cheeks, and whisper to the nothingness around me, my words saturated with pain, "I could have saved him."

**. . . .**

"Why doesn't she _wake?"_

Voldemort threw something at a wall and it shattered loudly. Someone scurried forward to pick up the pieces, but there was a loud _bang_, a shriek, and the sounds of someone running away.

"Fetch me Crabbe and Goyle," he ordered, and when no one moved, he swung around to face his followers with what they assumed was the full force of his rage. I knew better. I had seen much worse. "Well? Go!"

Two men fled, probably grateful at the chance to leave the room, and the Dark Lord spun around, pacing almost violently. His every step echoed so loudly that I almost flinched. I stopped myself just in time from reaching about to cover my ears more than once, to be honest, and I wondered idly where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were and if they were safe. A few unbidden thoughts floated through my mind, wondering if Harry thought of me at all, if he was wondering where I was and how I was doing. If he'd protested leaving, had waited for me to show up and had been bitterly disappointed when I never had…. if Hermione and ROn had tried to console him and he'd pushed them away, unable to get over what was sure to be my death or disappearance...

Abruptly, I made myself wonder who had won the World Cup, but it was futile. The whole thing just seemed so trivial now that at any moment I could breathe the wrong way and die.

"My Lord?" Crabbe's voice pierced the air. "You requested us?"

Voldemort flew across the room without hesitation, gripping Crabbe my the neck and pinning him against the wall. "Why," he hissed venomously, "doesn't she _wake?_ What did you imbeciles _do?"_

Crabbe struggled to reply, but his face was turning rapidly purple from what I could tell and the words wouldn't come out. _Do something!_ I wanted to scream at the Death Eaters. _Save him! Save him, you selfish, cowardly bastards!  
_

I had to act. I wouldn't let another living, breathing person die when there was something I could do.

"My Lord!" Goyle shouted, stepping forward, and I untensed my body. Every eye in the room was glued to him, including mine, as he continued, "You're going to kill him, my Lord, wait!" He paused for just half a second, long enough for Voldemort turn lessen his grip and to turn him. "We drugged her just like you said, but the guards that let them escape gave some interesting reports," he continued hurriedly as Voldemort's hands dropped from Crabbe's neck reluctantly, and added, "Before you killed them."

His voice was pointed, but just respectful enough to save Crabbe. Voldemort stepped back and Crabbe sunk to the floor, gasping for air as the Death Eaters watched Goyle with mounting respect. He'd had the courage they all hadn't to save his friend from the Dark Lord, and that took bravery that they certainly didn't have. It seemed everyone in the room held their breath, waiting for Voldemort's response, waiting to see if Goyle' bravery would be rewarded, ignored, or his disastrous downfall. I prayed for the first option.

"And?"

"And it affected females for longer than males, especially this one." He jerked his head as my and I remained motionless as all eyes turned to me and then back to him. "They told me that the lighter the female, the longer it would take. You gave me a larger dose than you did to them, too. It could take days for her to wake."

Voldemort clenched his fists. "Days."

"Days, my Lord." His eyes flickered to Crabbe, who was standing shakily, rubbing the throat with one hand. "If I'd known, I would have given her less. But I only found out right after we'd captured her."

Voldemort nodded wordlessly, stepping closer to Goyle, and a peculiar sort of expression had taken over his face. Not anger, but… something new. Sort of a—

He flew at Goyle with the anger returning full force, snarling incomprehensibly, and I knew that no one would intervene, not even Crabbe, whose life Goyle had just saved. Crabbe watched helplessly while the other Death Eaters stood with indifferent masks of calm.

Goyle would die.

I knew that with absolute certainty. And one other thing: I couldn't let him.

And either way, I couldn't sit here pretending to be drugged into oblivion forever. Eventually they would figure it out, and I couldn't remain practically motionless for much longer anyways.

I gripped my wand tightly and stood in one fluid motion. Was there are way to cast an Unforgiveable Curse silently? I tried desperately to remember but couldn't, and decided to forgo it.

"_Imperio! Imperio, Imperio, Imperio!" _ I shouted, pointing my wand at Death Eaters positioned all around the room. "Fight him!"

Immediately, their voices rang out, _"Stupefy!" _

Voldemort waved his wand at them, shouting, _"Protego!"_

Three crumpled to the ground, but two were able to dodge the hex, and they battled their hardest against my father while he dodged their spells. I Imperiused three more, and the fight still wasn't even, but it would buy me some time.

"_Stupefy!" _I stunned two Death Eaters and kept moving, scarcely daring to believe that I could actually make it out of here alive, that I might actually be able to survive this.

"Maddy?" Crabbe asked, too slow to process what was happening, but his wand was poised to curse me, so I kept running, praying that saving his friend's life would earn me enough points to save me this one time.

I was right. He watched me go by, pretending helplessness, but as I turned I saw the look on his face and knew helplessness had nothing to do with it. He was saving me, and the look in his eyes told me with no uncertainty that it would be the last time. I could accept that easily.

Lord Voldemort turned to me and raised his wand, _"Expelliarmus!"_

My wand flew out of my hand, and I kept running, but he shouted, _"Stupefy!"_ and I froze, my eyes glued to his face. He waved his wand at the door, and Crabbe and Goyle sprinted out of it just in time with the two other Death Eaters that weren't Stunned or otherwise injured. I looked at the floor and realized with a surge of shame that he hadn't gone easy on his own men. None were dead, but they easily could have because of my selfish actions.

"No more running, Madeleine," he said softly, un-Stunning me and slamming the door closed with a flick of his wand. "Agreed?"

I said nothing. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of this. There was no way in hell I'd give him the satisfaction.

"I've missed you, daughter."

I forgot my _no speaking_ rule and blurted out, "Oh, Daddy, you too! Where's Mommy!" with all the false excitement of a six-year-old. "Oh wait!" I cried, still chipper. My voice went flat as I said, "You killed her. Oopsy daisy!"

He blinked once and then chuckled. "You do have a sense of humor, don't you? You're just the whole package. A solid ten. Wonder why I couldn't marry you off."

"Because this is the twenty-first century," I hissed, "and seventeen-year-olds don't have arranged marriages anymore, much less want one, you fucking psychopath. Or don't you get that? I forgot how stupid you can be. I mean, I was sneaking out to meet your seventeen-year-old arch nemesis for months, Daddy dearest. Sure took you a while to figure that out."

"_Crucio." _There was the chilling calm again that matched his expression but not the wild, unmasked emotion in his eyes.

Pain shot through me, excruciating but brief.

"I mean, your enemy is—what?—thirty, forty years younger than you? Doesn't that strike you as a little strange?" I shrugged. "To each his own, I suppose."

"Shut up, little girl. Listen to me - you should have learned by now that I don't just _die_ so easily. I will _never_ just go away, and you'll never be rid of me. You can despise me as much as you want, but you might as well join me. We'll be the two Riddles, ruling the world, and I'll never die and leave you alone to deal with it all. It could all be so easy for you, Madeleine."

"News flash numero uno, Tom," I spat. "It just so happens that I hate you. Two? I will never fight for you or with you, and three?" I stepped forward, my eyes boring into his scarlet ones. "I don't care about it being easy. I care about doing what's right, d'you hear? And that's not your sick plan."

His eyes narrowed and the door swung open behind me, but I didn't dare move.

"Run and hide, then, Madeleine, like a coward. I'll always find you. I always return."

I stepped closer, feeling a surge of courage for once in my life. I shook my head and felt myself stand taller, lift my chin up and roll my shoulders back. This monster did not intimidate me. I had handled him before, and I would do it again.

"Listen to me. I do not _hide_ from _anybody_. I'm not curled up in a ball waiting for you to return. If you wanted a fight all you had to do was ask, because you may kill me, but I'm not afraid to die anymore. I'd rather die on my feet than live on my knees, and I'll be damned if you think that you can make me into a coward."

He sneered. "That's a lovely cliché. You and your mother share a fondness for them I suppose. When you meet in hell, you'll have lots to talk about."

Calm, calm, calm. Breathe, Maddy. He's bating you. but the anger bubbled to the surface anyways and I forced myself to look coolly back at him like I just didn't care.

He handed me back my wand, slowly and deliberately. "I'm not going to kill you, Madeleine. I'd regret it if I did. But… you did say you wanted a battle, and I'm more than happy to give it to you."

Part of me longed to battle him, hard and fair, for match myself against him and prevail, but I found myself thinking back on the man whose name I still did not know, and thought about the Death Eaters who lay on the floor because I had forced them to go against their master against their will. Yes, their master was a disgrace to the human race. But I'd taken away their _will_, and now they were hurt. I could fight him and lose and have the pride that I'd fought him and held my own… or I could save someone. Many someones.

"A battle sounds great," I responded, a smirk finding its way on to my face. "But before we do, there's something you should know. There's a riot in the dungeon, _Dad_."

His eyes widened, and confusion flitted briefly across his face. "What game are you playing at now?"

I took a step back and shook my head, raising my wand. "I said," I repeated, my grin widening, "there's a riot in the dungeons. Those people you keep trapped behind the iron bars, begging for mercy and to be saved?"

"My prisoners of death," he affirmed my words, a sick tinge of pride in his voice.

"Your prisoners of death are dying on their feet, too," I spat. "Go to hell."

And I lunged out the door with a single stride, screaming out, pointing my wand down the hallway. Th spell I cast was wordless and I never really thought about what I wanted to happen. All I knew was that I was slashing my wand down on air and suddenly everything I'd envisioned was happening. The prisoners' hands, previously clutching the iron bars with a desperation that came from years of longing, were now shoving at the doors as they spilled over into the hallway. Voldemort stood behind me, and he gripped my hair and yanked me around to face him, but the pain barely registered and I grinned fiercely, victoriously, at him.

The prisoners gathered and ganged up on the guards, beating them savagely and stealing their wands, and he still grabbed me, and I still grinned, and I raised my voice to be heard above the sounds of freedom.

"Stand and die, stand and fight, or start your running!" I shrieked as his face contorted, unable to settle on any one emotion. I was simply high, adrenaline pumping through me and the thrill causing my mind and emotions to work in strange ways.

"Cry havoc," I screamed, pulling away with all my strength, "and let slip the dogs of war!" I turned back to him, just out of arms reach—

I don't know why I said it - I remembered reading it in something Shakespeare wrote—

I pushed with the crowd, running, stampeding through the fortress. Some fell, some were hit by Death Eaters before we could stop them, but we picked those of us that couldn't carry on up of the floor and ran with a strength enough for two of us.

I turned back as the other rushed on around me, pulling at me to join them, and I thought he couldn't hear me anyway, but I screamed it so loudly that I thought the heavens could hear me, that Harry—wherever he was—could hear my victory, that Draco was listening to my triumph, that Bellatrix from her cell in Azkaban could hear, that my mother was watching my succes, and while I couldn't guess at her expression, I liked to imagine her smiling as I screamed back at the man we'd both thought we loved—

"Rise, oh fallen fighter!" I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up and burst out of me. "And take your stance again! He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day!"

And yes, it was a cheesy Muggle quote. But no, I didn't feel stupid saying it. And the look on his face was too priceless as I turned and ran for my life to run with the other prisoners of death, and I knew I was no prisoner and neither were they. Not any longer. Because one of these days, something had to break, something had to give. And until then, I had all the hope in the world that one day I would rise above him, and one day he really would be gone for good, and no. I couldn't see when that day would be. But it would come.

I had faith that it would come.

There's a riot in the dungeon, Dad. Better come and see.

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